On the Wings of Reminiscence
by AJHoward
Summary: "Sometimes things happen when you least expect them. You just have to accept the cards you're dealt with, and play the best you can with what you've got." The team returns home after a mission with a little more than they bargained for, turning the Langley house into something even they'd never imagined. Post Season 5 set just after the Series Finale. Team / OC - Murdockcentric!
1. Chapter 1 - Crash Into Me, What a Mess

**On the Wings of Reminiscence**

**By A. Howard**

* * *

_A/N: This story is dedicated to my Dad, who introduced me to my favorite show of all time.  
Here's to finding a place for fun and nostalgia in life and dreams... ~A.H._

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**_Chapter 1 – Crash Into Me, What a Mess!_**

A rumble of distant thunder broke the haunting silence that encompassed the private Virginia residence. Standing outside the vast field of luscious grass surrounding the prestigious mansion, a gray-suited man raised a pair of binoculars and actively searched the broad, darkening horizon.

"General," a voice called out from behind him. "The medical assistance you've requested is on their way and should be arriving within the next fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, Able Three," General 'Hunt' Stockwell responded without bothering to lower the binocs. The Able, pleased with himself, lifted his gun to his chest, performed an 'about-face' and returned to patrolling the premises.

Lightning flashed far off in the distance and another round of thunder rolled in. When the last rumble faded away, Stockwell heard the faint sound of a sputtering engine following and he soon located the silhouette of a helicopter as it appeared through the dark clouds above - which were now threatening to open up at any moment. As the chopper quickly approached and descended towards the field to land, he could now see the damage it had taken prior to arriving and his lips pursed in anticipation.

Suddenly, the engine seized, then stalled out completely and the skids slammed hard against the ground. The force was too great and they buckled under the pressure, sending the fuselage hard into the dirt. It settled in a thick cloud of black billowing smoke, dust and eventually, dead silence.

But not for long.

_"AHH, get me outta this thing!"_

The angry yell was loud enough to be heard though the metal wall of the craft just before the side door, covered in black carbon scoring, flew open. Sergeant B.A. Baracus jumped from the cargo area and immediately tore the camouflaged helmet from his head, checking his trademark Mohawk to reassure himself that it was still there. He snarled, finding singed hair and blood trickling down his neck from a gash behind his right ear instead.

"Hannibal! Why does that fool have to crash every time you guys make me fly? That's it! I ain't gonna do it ever again - no more!" B.A. started walking toward the nearby house, still rambling on in protest. "You ain't gonna drag me on anything that leaves the ground ever again and I mean it. I've really had it this time. Hey, you hearin' me, Hannibal?"

"_Yeah, I hear you, B.A."_

Colonel John "Hannibal" Smith was the next to follow suit, sliding out of the chopper and steading himself, the extra weight of an unconscious body in his arms not helping matters. With his arms full and his mind reeling, he began the trek back to the house, but not before casually voicing his opinion on the situation first through his clenched teeth on a lit cigar.

"Well, that was quite a close call back there. Whaddaya say, guys?"

_"Close, are you kidding me, Hannibal?__"_

Lieutenant Templeton 'Faceman' Peck slowly made his way to solid ground as well and winced as he tried to gingerly lift his injured shoulder. "That was a little _too_ close! You know, I'm all for an exciting mission now and again, but that was ridiculous!" He looked to the house to gauge the distance, then turned back to yell, "And speaking of close - did you really have to set us down all the way out here, Murdock? Now we gotta walk all this way back. You know, some of us were busy fighting off those goons while you were off taking your sweet time finding our ride."

_"Hey, what's your problem, Face? I got us back here in one piece, didn't I?"_

The last one to depart, Captain H.M. Murdock jumped out of the cockpit, tested his limbs and realized he was no worse for wear, minus his ego. He curiously examined the exterior of the chopper and whistled in awe when he looked down at the mangled skids. "And from the looks of things, you can thank your lucky stars too because I swore I heard this little birdie lose her engine back there while we were dead center over the Chesapeake Bay."

"Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better." Face glared at him. "Thanks, Murdock."

"Anytime, Face." Murdock smirked back, then walked over to take a quick peek under the tail section and whistled in awe. Hannibal was right, it _was_ a close one - there were enough damage to resemble the one too many choppers he saw fall from the sky in the Vietnam War. Breathing a sigh of relief, he gave a quick salute to the clouds above him.

_Pilot's Prayer saves us all once again._

"Just you wait!" Murdock's religious moment was interrupted by B.A.'s angry yell. "I'm gonna pound _all_ of you for this - you better believe it!"

"Hey, B.A., leave me out of it this time, will ya?" Face protested. "Murdock was the one that was supposed to be scouting the area so, uh, pound away at him."

Murdock gaped in disbelief. "Wait a second, what do you mean _I_ was the scout?"

"Hannibal told _you_ to check the hangar, remember?"

"Hey, I _did_ check it, and it was all clear. Besides, he was looking at both of us and _I_ was the one who found this pretty little bird that got us outta there."

"And nearly got us all killed in the process!" Face reminded him.

"Enough of the blame game, guys!" Hannibal interrupted them, calling out from ahead. "You gotta figure those sleazeballs were hot on our tail the minute we high-tailed it outta there, so it's obvious they were tracking us the moment we got back into the country. Now let's just deal with one thing at a time - starting with the wounded here, so let's pick up the pace, all right?"

The desire to further inspect the chopper nagged at Murdock, but his commanding officer's impatient tone told him it better wait. He pulled himself away from the wreckage and quickly caught up with the rest of the team as they all made their way back to their safe haven.

"Hey Hannibal!" B.A. called out. "Stockwell's already here, he's waiting for us."

"I see he's in a big hurry to help too," Face grumbled as he watched Stockwell remain still, poised in his typical tranquility. They finally met up with him on the concrete path leading back to the house and wasted no time trying to find out answers.

"Report, Colonel Smith."

Ignoring the question, Hannibal walked right past, glaring in response and quickening his pace. It wasn't long before Stockwell was alongside him and keeping stride.

"I would _appreciate _your report on this mission." Stockwell insisted. "What happened out there?"

_What happened? You should know what happened. You're the one that sent us on the mission in the first place you son of a..._

Ignoring the colorful list of obscenities that plagued his mind, Hannibal finally answered, "They got the drop on us during the transfer." He cocked his head towards the smoking chopper in the distance and added, "literally."

"I was told they might have been tracking you when you left Buenos Aires. Did you take care of the matter?"

"No doubt about that." Hannibal made no attempt to hide his smugness, adding, "You'll have to fish them out of the Chesapeake Bay about thirty miles back."

"Already done - and what about this?" Stockwell motioned to the unconscious body in his arms.

"This?" Hannibal's voice dripped with sarcasm. "You know that abandoned airfield you directed us to? Not so abandoned after all. You know, I'd appreciate it if the next time we go on one of your missions, General, that your people get their so-called facts straight the first time around. I'm getting _real_ tired of surprises."

Stockwell glared back in response. Smith had always loved to get his digs in whenever he could and today was no different. Paying no attention to his comments, he quickly blocked the doorway with with a quick move of his arm, forcing Hannibal to stop in his tracks. Their eyes met, annoyance on both sides.

"What about the disk?" Stockwell's impatience was beginning to show through his stoic gaze. "Did you get it?"

"Priorities first, General." Hannibal answered through the cigar in his teeth. "I'm not going to stand around and chat when there's someone in need of medical attention." He readjusted the weight in his arms and warned, "Now, get out of my way."

Stockwell looked down at the unconscious body, then dropped his arm and stepped back, allowing Hannibal to edge his way through. Face, Murdock and B.A. followed closely behind, each sharing their own look of displeasure as they passed, and B.A. growled as he pulled his hand away, exposing his injury.

Not phased in the least by the gruesome wound, Stockwell turned to the Ables accompanying him. "Post extra security in case they were followed back here, also, get that mess off the lawn and tell the doc, '_code gray'_. We are at a full security alert, gentleman!"

On entering the house, Hannibal wasted no time setting the unconscious figure down on a nearby couch and began carefully searching for any open or serious wounds. "Took a pretty big hit from that blast… was in and out the whole way over." After looking her over, he found only the obvious welt on the side of her head and sighed in resignation. "Where'd she even come from, Murdock - I thought you said we were clear?"

"Outta nowhere." Murdock shook his head apologetically. "Sorry, Colonel - must've been somewhere in the hangar. I didn't see her until it was too late." He saw the welt on her head and winced. "I'll go get some ice."

"Yeah, you do that," Face called out in retort as he watched Murdock scurry from the room. "And get some for me too, will ya?" He gingerly lowered himself in a chair and continued to test his throbbing shoulder. From the pain that radiated in return, he knew it was a little more than jarred from the crash. "Well I'm out of commission for a few days. What about you, B.A. - you okay?"

B.A. nodded as he pressed a fresh towel against his head. "Yeah, man. Gonna need a few stitches though. What about you, Hannibal?"

"Nothing that a hot shower and a few asprin won't cure."

Murdock soon returned, tossing ice packs to Face, B.A. and Hannibal.

Face pressed the cold pack against his burning shoulder and it finally brought some relief. "Hey, is it just me, or do these missions keep getting more and more dangerous the longer we've been out here?"

"It ain't just you, Face," B.A. muttered, holding up the now blood-soaked towel.

Stockwell's glare was as cold as the ice on their wounds. "You all want your pardons, don't you?"

Face rolled his eyes. He loathed that carrot constantly dangled in front of them. "Before we're _dead_ would be nice."

"Speaking of pardons, General," Murdock piped up. "Frankie split for Puerto Rico without so much as a 'see you around' after he got _his_ pardon, but here we are - still working for you."

"Yeah, man, what gives?" B.A. didn't hesitate to chime in. "What about the rest of us?"

"Mr. Santana wasn't the one with the fifteen-year rap sheets, was he? Now, if the rest of you keep doing as I say, you will receive the same in return, but until then, you'll do things _my way_." His expression remained unchanged as he looked at Hannibal. "Now, Colonel," he persisted, standing impatiently over Hannibal with his hand out, "the disk_._"

Hannibal turned his attention away from the injured long enough to reach into his jacket pocket. "Here," he said, handing Stockwell the computer floppy. "I hope it was worth it beating us to hell like this."

"It was, Colonel... it was." Stockwell smirked as he stared at his prize. "Mission successfully accomplished, _gentlemen_. Now, about our visitor..."

* * *

_A/N : __Rev. 5/9/20_


	2. Chapter 2 - New Awakenings, Old Habits

_**Chapter 2 – New Awakenings, Old Habits**_

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With arms spread out as wide as they could stretch, she glided along the very tops of the scattered clouds. Discerning each individual tree between them was impossible from this altitude and the feelings of excitement overflowed. She could even control the flight, dipping up and down - yet a small part of the sub-conscious kept insisting the impossibility. Ignoring the whispers of reality, the journey continued on, knowing this was everything she'd dreamed of as a child, taking flight in a Superman-like state without barriers between flesh and air.

If only it could last forever.

But suddenly she lost control and began the long plummet down to the Earth below, while her deepest innards leapt high into her throat. Just seconds before impact, the vision faded into swirling shades of gray and voices began drifting in and out.

_"...vitals stab...zing. Bl... press... coming back up."_

A blinding light appeared in her left eye, then the right. It only fueled the pounding in her head and the still-churning in her stomach, which she soon realized was not from falling.

_"Pupils reacting normally... look she's coming around. Keep her still until the shock wears off."_

A ceiling came into focus, then an unfamiliar face covered in dirt and sweat. She studied the stranger for a moment, noticing his weary expression behind bright blue eyes.

"Hello there." His voice was deep, yet soft. "Stay calm, you're safe. You all right?"

Still unable to put her thoughts into coherent words, all she could manage was a confused stare in return. She looked down to see his black gloves resting on her hands, then freed one to rub her throbbing temple.

"Head… hurts." She managed to utter a few broken words. "What happened?"

He offered a reassuring smile and answered, "What do you remember?"

"Trying to," she muttered, struggling to recall anything. "Hangar... explosion... that _idiot_ trying to steal my - oh no, where is she?!" She sat up in a rush of panic as the memories came flooding back, along with overwhelming dizziness and nausea. "Whoa..."

"Hey, lie still!" The doctor snapped at her. "I haven't ruled out a concussion yet."

"Nice bedside manner, _Doc._" Hannibal rolled his eyes, then motioned her to lie back down, which she obliged. "Take it easy now, we landed here in... uh, _it._ What's your name?"

"Parker." As the dizziness faded, a cold stethoscope touched her chest and she drew in a quick breath. She looked down to see her jumpsuit had been unzipped and white undershirt pulled up, exposing her mid-section. Her embarrassment was obvious as she tried to cover herself to no avail. "A.J. Parker."

"Hello Ms. Parker, I'm Hannibal Smith. I know you're probably wondering what's going on, but let's make sure you're okay first."

"There's only one thing I need to know, where's my chopper?"

The doctor pulled the stethoscope away and ignored her question. She then looked at Hannibal, who winced.

"Ah, well, Miss Parker, it's uh... _well_," he trailed off in hesitation. "It's um-"

"She's right outside," an unfamiliar voice interjected. "Right where we left her."

She looked to where the voice came from and immediately recognized him - blue baseball cap and more notably, his faded leather flight jacket.

"_You!_ You're the idiot!" She tried to sit up again, but this time Hannibal was ready and held down her shoulder.

"Hold still, kid - Doctor's orders. Don't make me say it again."

Defeated, she pointed at the tall, lanky man instead, her eyes filled with shooting fire. "I can't believe you just _stole_ her like that. Are you crazy?"

"Me?" Murdock turned to look over his shoulder, then pointed to himself. "Crazy? Me? Nooo," he waved his hands, dismissing both accusations. "Not at all crazy, and I wasn't stealing anything. I was just, uh-" he noticed the knowing look on her face and realized there was no denying it. "Borrowing it."

_Borrowing? Man, I'm getting to be as bad as Face._

He kicked himself mentally, then looked from Hannibal's cheeky grin over to Face, hoping he could be inspired somehow. Instead, he saw a hint of amusement sparkle in the conman's eyes.

"Borrowing," Face helpfully chimed in agreement.

"Borrowing," she repeated in obvious disbelief, then narrowed her eyes. "Where's the key? You _hot-wired_ her, didn't you?"

"Let me explain, at least." Murdock kept his voice calm as he edged his way closer. "I was just trying to get us all out of there before we were _all_ toast. Believe me, if a magic bus appeared out of the fabric of space itself, we would've been riding that outta there instead of that pretty bird of yours, so it's a good thing that-"

"Bus? What bus?" B.A.'s voice boomed over the room as he walked back in. "If there was a bus, then why the heck did you make us get on that chopper, _fool?_"

Suddenly, Murdock's jacket collar was bunched up in B.A.'s clenched fist and he was pulled nose to nose with the short tempered aerophobe. "B.A., I said _if _there was a bus, now let go, let go!" Murdock reached up and tried to pry the strong hands off him to no avail.

"Finally, some justice around here!" A.J. piped up.

"B.A.," Hannibal warned, watching Murdock turn an all-too familiar shade of purple.

"I like her." B.A. smiled, then finally released his grip on Murdock, who wasted no time in catching his breath and retreating to other side of the room to sulk.

It was a much-needed distraction as the examination continued. More lights in the eyes, more questions from the doctor.

"All right, one last one from me - what's today's date?"

"May twenty-first, nineteen eighty-seven," she answered without delay.

"Okay, no memory loss confirmed." The doctor finished up the assessment and wrapped the stethoscope back around his neck. "I don't see any signs of a serious concussion either," he told Stockwell, and the rest of the team.

She wasted no time tugging the jumpsuit's zipper back up to her neck and tried to sit up again, this time more slowly. "Great, now about my -"

"No," the doctor interrupted. "Stay put. You are in no condition to be up and about just yet. I'd recommend an overnight for observation and a follow-up in the morning, if needed. Call me right away if you suddenly feel dizzy or nauseated."

"Thank you, Doctor." She acknowledged his advice while watching the others also being tended in the room. "Wait a minute, this isn't a hospital. Where are we?"

Hannibal sighed. It was an obvious question - one deserving of an answer. "Our home." As Stockwell's warning glare fired his way in return, he ignored him, answering even further, "You're in Langley, Virginia."

"You brought me all the way out here across the bay - why?"

"We're sorry for the inconvenience, Miss Parker, but as our pilot already explained, we really had no other choice; especially after you were injured. Speaking of, this is Captain H.M. Murdock."

Murdock looked away away from watching B.A. being stitched up to nod to her in acknowledgement. He didn't dare smile with her accusing glare still shooting at him.

"That's Lieutenant Peck over there, and Sergeant B.A. Baracus." Hannibal pointed across the room at his two other comrades and they both looked up, nodded in acknowledgment, then went back to nursing their wounds.

"Smith... Peck... Baracus..." She looked at each of them in recognition. "No, it... it can't be."

B.A. curiously asked, "You've heard of us?"

"Are you kidding, who hasn't? But I read in the paper last year that you were - uh, that you're all..." She trailed off, not about to argue that this wasn't a group of corpses standing before her.

"We're what?" Hannibal insisted, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I think I hit my head harder than I thought - aren't you dead?"

Face called out from across the room, "If we were, kid, I sure wouldn't be here picking shrapnel out of my shoulder." He winced as the antiseptic fizzled.

"Okay... not dead. Wow, so why were you at the airfield today?"

"Well, that's kind of a long story," Hannibal began, then glanced over at Stockwell, who'd leaned over and was now whispering in the doctor's ear. "You see, Miss Parker, we're-"

"That's _enough,_ Colonel Smith!" Stockwell interrupted. "Are you forgetting this is a '_code gray',_ gentlemen? You will not reveal _any_ classified information to our visitor here until we've confirmed a few things first." He motioned to the doctor, who then reached into his medical bag.

"Whoa, what is _that_ for?" she nervously asked, watching the syringe being filled.

"Juuust a little something to help you relax," the doctor answered, his reassuring tone obviously fake. "So we can ask you a few more questions."

"I am relaxed!" she squeaked, "And I certainly don't need _that._" Realizing she had nowhere to run, she began spouting a nervous ramble. "Wait, is this because I know you're alive? Forget it, I don't know who you are. Nope, never heard of the A-Team 'Z-Group' or whatever I don't know anything about." She shrugged, then nervously eyed the now approaching needle. "So, how about a cab to take me home and you can go on about your business, whatever it may be around here. You can just drop off my bird back to the airfield tomorrow."

"Hold her still," the doctor commanded.

"I won't even charge you for the mileage -_ hey!_" she yelled as two Able's suddenly grabbed her shoulders from behind and pinned her down. "Let me go! Look, I honestly don't know what's going on here and I don't want to know, okay? "

"Come on, Stockwell, is this really necessary?" Murdock was the first to speak up. "There's no reason for any of this, she really wasn't involved."

"We don't know that yet, _Captain._" Stockwell reminded him and held his hand up for silence. "Safety first, gentlemen."

"Why are you doing this?" She pleaded as the cold burn of alcohol brushed across her arm. "I didn't even do anyth - _ow!_ " A sting immediately followed as the meds were pushed. She looked up at Hannibal, her eyes pleading for help.

Hannibal rested his reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Try to hang in there, kid, best not to fight it. I promise no one's here to hurt you."

"Bullshhh..." Her vision began to swirl as if she was extremely intoxicated, then slurred. "What... what was in that stuff?"

"Nothing that won't cause any permanent ill-effects," Stockwell admitted, then leaned over and stared intently in her now wobbly eyes. "Now... tell me your name."

"I already _told you,_ it's A.J. Parker." Her filter of reasoning disappeared and she curiously asked him, "So what's _your_ name, General? You know... has anyone ever told you that you look an awful lot like Napoleon Solo?"

Stockwell rolled his eyes at Hannibal's echoing laughter, then persisted, "What's your affiliation, Parker? Tell me why you were at that airfield today."

"I, uh -" She frowned in confusion. "I work there?"

"And with whom _exactly_ do you work for?"

"I work for... my Dad. I mean _me -_ I mean, uhh... both?"

"Where can we find him; your father, that is?"

"_Find_ him? Is this a trick question?"

"Answer it."

After a long pause, she looked away and finally answered, "Arlington cemetery."

B.A., who'd been watching nearby, solemnly shook his head. "I know you guys drug _me_ all the time, but this is just wrong."

"You're right, B.A.," Hannibal agreed. "I've heard enough, Stockwell. We're done here."

"Are you even considering the consequences if she could be one of _them_, Colonel?" Stockwell leaned in closer until he was eye to eye. "One last time, Miss Parker - are you affiliated with any terrorist groups? Are you a part of the same _Clan __Hand _terrorist organization whose members were all apprehended this evening?"

"_Now_ who's breaching security around here?" Face wondered aloud.

She answered, "_No,_ I don't know anything about whatever you just said. I'm just a private charter and I just want to take my bird home and get back to work." Her unfocused gaze drifted from Stockwell to Hannibal, who was watching with concern. "Can I go home now, please?"

"Sorry, not tonight kid. You're in no condition to be going anywhere right now. We'll get all of this straightened out real soon." His voice echoed in her ears as the medicine reached it's full effect. "Get some rest and we'll talk more about what happened to your bird later."

"What do you mean, _what_ happened?" Her eyes snapped up to meet his in a brief moment of clarity, then overpowered by dizziness, her attempt at questions soon turned to incoherent mumbles, and the sounds of distant conversation quickly faded away.

As Hannibal watched her doze off, he sighed in frustration, then his glaring eyes met Stockwell's. "What do you want us to do with her now, General?"

"Put her in quarters. Able Four will keep watch and I'll be along in the morning, after I know that we're absolutely sure she's not a threat." He headed for the door, the doctor following closely behind.

Hoping his voice was still within earshot after they'd passed through the doorway, Hannibal called out sarcastically, "You're welcome, General!" As the door closed, he looked to the couch and sighed with displeasure. "This one's going to be pretty steamed when she wakes back up."

Face piped up. "You think that's bad, just wait until she finds out what Murdock did to her chopper out there." From across the room, he was immediately met with a shooting glare from the still-sulking pilot.

"Mm, yeah." It was Hannibal's typical nonchalant response. "Well, we'll deal with that in the morning. Might as well get her upstairs while she's still out."

"Colonel, you look pretty tired. I'll take care of it, it's the least I can do," Murdock offered, then lifted her into his arms with a quick move. Thankful she was a lightweight, he began the trek upstairs.

"Thanks, Captain." Hannibal called back, then sank into a nearby chair and fished around for a new cigar. "Poor kid - bet she didn't plan on having her day end up like this when she got out of bed this morning."

Face shot him a look of disbelief and piped up, "Hannibal, if I had known what we were going to go through today, _I _wouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning."


	3. Chapter 3 - Discoveries and Disillusions

_**Chapter 3 - Discoveries and Disillusions**_

* * *

The sun had dipped below the horizon several hours earlier and the area around the Langley house remained quiet, aside from the occasional blip or flicker from the security system which kept vigil throughout the premises. After their unforgiving day, the team headed into their respective quarters; including Murdock, who chose to forgo the drive back to his own apartment and settled in Frankie's abandoned room instead; knowing Stockwell wasn't around to protest.

Face continued to toss and turn with post-mission anxiety, even after a quick trip to the bar downstairs. Not only was the bothersome throbbing in his shoulder keeping him awake, but he was constantly stirring from the loud footsteps of an Able pacing the hallway.

_Curse you, Stockwell... for screwing us over, yet again!_

It was the last thought on his mind before he downed one more shot to try and numb the pain. With a final groan, he flopped face down on the bed and buried his head deep into the pillow. Finally, he began to nod off and was soon able to succumb to sleep.

In the next room, B.A. feverishly tinkered with his newest mechanical project, per Hannibal's request. The smell of solder tingled his nose as he assembled what would hopefully be their solution for the gap in communication with their boss. A diode here, a miniature microphone connected there...

_This'll show that sucker!_

The last drip of the searing hot liquid hardened, helped by a blow of air from his lips. Pleased with his work, a smile appeared while he wiped his hands. After tucking his tools out of sight, he made his way to bed as well.

Murdock usually found comfort in the soft glow of a television at night. Late night programs were his preference - he could sometimes catch an old rerun of Range Rider or a recap of a beloved wresting match before exhaustion would force him to rest. He instead found himself standing on the second floor balcony of his temporary room, staring up at the storms rumbling through the night sky. He rested his hands upon the wooden railing as the first drops of ice cold rain started to fall, and simply longed to break out in a coyote-like howl, glad to be alive and kicking for yet another day.

_I'm glad to know you guys are just a few doors away, rather than a city's stretch._

A few doors away, Hannibal sat on the edge of his bed, his hand to his forehead in deep thought and the stub of a lit cigar sitting in a nearby ashtray as he pondered what had gone right and wrong with their latest mission.

_Lack of communication. Yet again._

Reaching over to the nightstand beside him, he tapped the hot cherry off the tip of his stogie and squashed it out. When the thin stream of smoke ceased, he rested against the pillow with his hands behind his head, then closed his eyes and attempted to drift off to slumber.

* * *

As the household majority fell asleep one by one, another awakened. There had been no dreams; only empty, dark unconsciousness. When her eyes snapped open, everything came flooding back as she sat up in pitch-black darkness. She flipped on a nearby light switch, glanced around the unfamiliar room and muttered, "I can't believe this, they have some damn nerve."

She looked at the faint needle mark on her skin, then remembered the last words spoken to her just before she'd passed out.

_We'll talk about what happened to your bird._

"Oh, for crying out loud!" With Hannibal's words still fresh in her mind, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. The dizziness returned for a moment, but soon passed. After a brief look around the dimly lit room, she crept to the door and opened it slowly.

"_This is a restricted area,_" a stern voice suddenly barked, startling her. "You will remain in this room until morning."

"Uh, excuse me." She peered through the crack of the door even further and immediately recognized him as one of the Ables who'd held her down. "What is this, am I a prisoner or something?"

"No, but this area is under lock-down."

She sensed the rushed reply and wasn't quite sure if it was the truth. "When can I go home?"

"When the General says you can."

"It's Stockwell, right? I heard Colonel Smith call him that. Where is he?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss that."

Growing annoyed at the dead-end answers, she said, "Well, would you kindly point me in the direction of someone at the liberty? Because I have some questions for them; starting with why I'm being forced to stay locked in this room, like a _prisoner_!" Giving the Able no time to answer, she kept on going, her voice rising. "First, it was stealing my property, _kidnapping_ me, drugging me against my will, now _you_-"

"Hey, you'll lower your voice, _lady - _all I can tell you is my orders are to make sure you stay in this room until the General returns in the morning. Which means, in the _morning!_" The Able abruptly closed the door, leaving her standing there befuddled at the situation.

"Some real nerve," she said, now to herself, then walked over to the nearest window and peered outside. Now looking around for another way out, she caught a glimpse of the rain pouring outside, then looked down and saw that it wasn't very far up. Her heart beginning to pound, she reached up to the lock on the window and was just about to flip it when there was a knock at the door.

"Oh, _now_ you want to talk?" She called out to the Able outside as she quickly made it back across the room. She cracked the door open again, telling him, "Make up your mind, will ya?"

"Hi there."

She opened the door the rest of the way and stared in disbelief - then her decorum quickly faded away and frustration came to a peak. "Oh, no, not _you_ again. Haven't you done enough already?"

Murdock leaned in her doorway and gave no reply, only an indication that he was somewhat entertained by the red blush of anger in her cheeks.

After an uncomfortable moment of staring, she raised her hands in question. "What?"

"I just wanted to tell you that I could hear you next door." He jerked his thumb towards the hallway behind him. "And if you keep up this racket, you'll wake up one angry _mudsucker_ by the name of B.A. and then we're all in for it, especially me. That big guy gets awfully cranky if he doesn't get his beauty rest - you've seen him!"

"I'm not afraid of that, or of him. What I'm afraid of is - look, Colonel Smith said we'd talk about what happened to my bird. Those words worry me, Captain. It makes me think... well, _something_ happened. Now, I don't want to talk, I just want to see her."

"Boy," a teasing spark in his eyes appeared. "You've sure got a one-track chopper mind, don't you?"

Her response was a mix between a shooting glare and disappointment. "You know, I thought that as a fellow pilot, _you_ of all people would understand."

"Okay, okay." He quickly gave up the lighthearted tactic. "Look, if she's really that important, I'll go take you to see your bird."

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now - although," he hesitated, then pointed to the window behind her. "It looks like it's raining cats and dogs out there. You sure you're up for that?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and her impatient expression let him know it was a question that needn't be asked. "I'm not afraid of a little '_goo'_."

Surprised at the pilot slang, there was no question he was amused now. "All right then - let's '_goo',_" he teased, motioning her to join him in the hallway.

As she passed over the room's threshold there was an immediate sense of relief; until the Able who had been keeping watch at her door immediately shot to his feet and warned, "Captain Murdock, she _cannot -"_

"I got this." Murdock squared his jaw and waved him off. "Go play mall guard somewhere else."

The Able warily eyed him, then resigned to follow behind as they quietly crept down the stairs and to the front door.

As Murdock slid open the glass door, they were both immediately hit with crisp nighttime air and the loud constant downpour. He led the way, but not before grabbing an umbrella from a nearby holder by the door first. He shielded them from the sheets of rain as they began the trek down the pathway leading around the rear of the house in silence. As they passed by a lone Able hurrying in the opposite direction, gun at the ready, she huddled a little closer to Murdock.

"She's not out here getting drenched, is she?"

"No." He quickened his pace, leading her through the grassy field to the nearby garage bay. "In here."

He reached into his inner jacket pocket and retrieved a set of keys, one which he inserted in the keyhole. A quick tap on the security pad released the lock. The door slid open and he motioned her inside.

Murdock grinned as he handed the umbrella to the Able that had followed them. ""Here, hold this for me will ya? Now, don't catch cold, okay?"

The Able was not amused as the door slammed in _his_ face this time.

"Where is she?" Her whisper echoed in the pitch-black darkness. The familiar scents of high-octane fuel and oil lingered as the sound of bouncing rain echoed off the metal roof.

"Over here," he called out beside her, then a flashlight lit under his chin. "Scared?"

"Of you? No." She quickly looked away, unfazed by his humor. "Only one thing scares me, and that's..."

The outline of a black van appeared through the faint glow of the flashlight, then moved and came to rest upon a large silhouette of a somewhat familiar shape.

"Oh _no..._" she muttered as she walked towards it in disbelief. As the flashlight's beam bounced off the twisted metal, her heart sank. That's exactly what the mangled heap she was walking towards _was_.

Murdock watched her slowly circle the chopper in silence, and when she reached the heavy damaged area of the torn and compromised hull, she looked to the concrete floor, as if in mourning.

"Hey, she took a pretty big hit and a hard landing, but c'mon, she ain't bent up _that_ bad!" He attempted his best 'Faceman' technique, slapping the tail rotor in emphasis. It suddenly snapped off and fell to the concrete floor with a loud clang that rattled throughout the bay.

_How does Face do it?_

Her gaze turned from the debris at his feet and she stared at him blankly.

"Sorry," he winced, half expecting another furious bout of anger accompanied with finger pointing; anything but what she said next.

"She really made it all the way out here like this? You must be one hell of a pilot, Captain..."

Surprised, he watched her climb into the pilot's seat without another word and he scurried to the other side to follow. Easing himself into the co-pilot's seat, he reached up and flipped on the cabin light so he could catch a better look at the cockpit.

"Say, what kind of bird is this anyway?" he curiously asked. "She flies just like a 'two-oh-six', but I don't recognize some of these switches here."

"Almost, this is a four-hundred twin."

"No way!" His voice heightened with excitement. "Oh _man_, no wonder we made it back in one piece after that hit. Those dual two-fiver turbo-shafts sure did their job!"

"You... know what I'm talking about?" She looked at him in astonishment. "You know what this is?"

"Sure I do. She's a prototype, pretty rare one too." Murdock, now in complete awe, ran his hands across the switches as if he were studying each one. "I read they only made four of these babies before they pulled the plug."

"You're looking at number five. Well, what's left of her. Now do you understand why I had to see her so bad?"

"Of course, it all makes sense now." Enthralled in studying each switch detail, he muttered, "Oh man, if I had a bird like this, I'd never let her out of my sight!"

"I don't. I - I didn't, _Captain!_"

Murdock winced, realizing what he'd just mindlessly blurted out. The cockpit switches quickly forgotten, he looked over to see the hurt in her eyes.

"No, you didn't. Okay, look, we really need to clear the air here. I am really sorry about all this. It's just that in our line of work, we have this uncanny knack of getting into unpredictable situations that need a... quick exit."

She considered his apology, then answered, "Okay, I can understand that; being the A-Team's pilot, after all. Just tell me why... _why_ were you at the airfield?"

He shook his head. "I truly can't answer that."

"Hey, you were the one who wanted to clear the air, right? C'mon, look at your fancy mansion, fancy security, fancy drugs - this has C.I.A. written all over it, am I right?"

Murdock instinctively cocked a knowing half-smile. "H.M. Murdock. Captain. I.D. service number: eight-six-seven-five-three-oh-nine, Jenny better change your number _and_ your address if you know _anything_ about what we do here, catch my drift?" He intentionally shifted his eyes towards Able Nine standing in the warehouse doorway, who was listening intently. _"Not here,"_ he mouthed silently. She understood, and nodded back.

He suddenly cleared his throat and gestured at the controls; pretending for a moment it was in a restored state of glory. "So, how'd you wind up with this anyway?"

She pointed to a weathered photograph wedged in a corner of his window. He plucked it from its resting spot and stared. It certainly showed the passage of time, but through the crinkles and fade marks, he saw two grinning figures posed in front of an older Bell Jet-Ranger helicopter. He turned the picture over and found handwriting on the back.

_'Al + AJ ~June 1979'_

"She's my Dad's. It's his charter business too. You know, scenic tours, photo shoots... it was his dream after his retirement from the service."

"Army?" He perked up, an obvious first guess.

"Air Force."

"Go big blue." He nodded approvingly, then handed the photo back to her. "You mentioned Arlington last night. If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

She hesitated at his question. "They told me it was his heart. But I wasn't there, it happened while I was away on tour last year."

"Tour?" He looked at her in surprise. "Wait, you're an officer?"

"_Was._" She tugged at the collar of her flight suit. "I'm discharged now... came back here to take over his business after the funeral. He worked and sacrificed so much to start it up, I just couldn't let it slip away... guess I thought as long as I still had her, he wouldn't be completely gone." She gripped the cold cyclic, then looked at him. "Sounds crazy, right?"

His eyes widened at the word, then he gulped. "No, not... crazy. Uh, a bit 'ghost in the machine' but..." he trailed off, knowing crazy was one language he understood all too well.

"Well, whatever it is, it looks like I've gotta let her go now - the business too."

Murdock watched her release her grip on the cyclic, then lean back against the headrest in defeat. Guilt suddenly washed over him. This time he hadn't plucked some random bird from an unsuspecting owner without consequence.

_Well, Hannibal isn't the only one who can think up a plan._

"Maybe, uh, maybe we can figure something out here."

Stunned, she looked over at him. "Figure what out? She's beyond repair, I can see that. Call in the wrecker, Captain, it's over."

"Hey!" He frowned at the pessimistic attitude. "She might be bent up a little on the outside, but I'm guessing she's still a tough bird where it counts. If there's one thing I know, it's that _nothing_ is beyond repair, especially with whom you're now acquainted with."

"You mean the A-Team?"

"Yeah, and I really mean B.A. - that big guy has the best mechanics hands I've _ever_ seen." He held his hands out and wiggled his fingers. "The stuff he can pull off when we're in a jam - he can do it, lemme tell you. We all can. It'll just take some convincing."

"You're going to convince the guys to fix all _this?_"

"_We_ are." He nodded enthusiastically. "Figure we all owe you one. Your bird saved us, so I'll save your bird. You know, I bet we can get her fixed up in no time. Couple weeks tops and she'll be good as new."

"Well, if you can achieve _that_, Captain, consider us even." Their eyes met and she nodded approvingly.

Suddenly the rain battered the roof even harder. "Sounds like it's picking up pretty good out there." Murdock looked up, then asked, "You ready to pack it in and head back yet?"

She nodded, then slid out of the cockpit seat. He quickly followed suit and they headed for the exit and the awaiting Able.

"Thanks." Murdock smirked as he plucked the umbrella from the Able's hand, and they began the walk back to the house. He couldn't keep his mind from racing as they strode along – what it would take to rebuild a helicopter was beyond anything he'd done before.

_So much to plan, so much to -_

"So, Captain, I told you a little about me. What about you?"

He gulped, then tried to hide the panic in his face as he turned his gaze straight ahead.

_Hi there, I'm H.M. Murdock and I used to be insane. Used to be, but not anymore. Yes, one piece of paper later and I'm cured after over a decade in a V.A. mental hospital. It's so very nice to meet you - hey, where ya going?_

"I, uh," he began, wondering exactly how to describe himself. Heck, even sometimes he didn't know. One week he was a clothing inspector, the next; stringing cable wire, sewer inspector, but no job ever lasted long, Stockwell's missions made sure of that. Especially the last one; scrubbing fryers in that cafe. That particular job had bit the dust as well, along with the attempted relationship that accompanied it.

He winced at the thought, then looked over at her and shrugged. "I'm just the A-Team's pilot."

"Okay, maybe that was a bit too broad of a question." She thought a moment, then asked, "When did you hit the sky for the first time?"

He breathed a sigh of relief; thankful she'd clarified. Then he thought about the day he flew for the first time and it brought a warm smile to his face.

"I was eighteen, Army flight school in Fort Wolters. She was a nice bird too, an O-H thirteen." He looked her way, noticed her eyes lit up, then continued in a bit of a nervous ramble. "Guess I picked it up pretty darn fast - was one of the few who never crashed in the simulator and I've been flying ever since. Flew with the Thunderbirds for awhile, then I met these guys in 'Nam and _voila!"_ He gestured to himself, then stopped in his tracks as they arrived at the back door, halting any further discussion, much to Murdock's relief.

With a finger to his lips, they entered, headed upstairs, and crept past B.A.'s door extra quiet. Now back at the same place they'd started, Murdock gestured inside her room and whispered. "All right, you get on in there and try to sleep, okay? I'll be right next door and we'll talk to B.A. and the rest of the guys in the morning about Operation _'Build-a-Bird'_."

She nodded, then walked into her room. Moments later, she poked her head back out. "Captain Murdock?" she hissed.

"Yeah?" He turned around and shot a curious look her way.

"Thanks." She smiled appreciatively at him. "Good night."

"Call me H.M., will ya?" He gave a playful mock salute in return, then disappeared into the room next door.

As the door closed behind her, she began another search, this time for a towel. Finding one in her own lavatory, she dried herself off the best she could, hung up her jumpsuit to dry, then quickly made her way back to bed, hoping tomorrow brought better news.


	4. Chapter 4 - Anything's Possible in 100

_**Chapter 4 - Anything is Possible in 100 Years**_

* * *

Morning arrived and it turned out to be a dreary one. The heavy rain pattered against the windows with a constant rhythm that eventually stirred Hannibal out of his slumber. With a groan, he rolled over and gave a quick stretch; in return, his sore and aching muscles gave a reminder of the previous day. He climbed out of bed and made his way through the usual morning routine, then headed across the hall, wondering how their newest visitor had fared overnight.

The Able, still keeping watch from the previous night, looked up at him briefly from a newspaper, then went back to his business.

Hannibal gave a quick knock on the door and entered at her response.

"Good morning, Miss Parker." From across the room, Hannibal addressed her sitting in the chair. "Glad to see you're up and about. How about we grab some breakfast and then we'll go see your bird?"

"There's no need." Her solemn eyes looked up from the deck of cards she was shuffling to acknowledged him. "I already saw her - well, what's left of her."

"Oh?" Not sure what to make of her sudden admission, he asked, "How did you manage that?"

"Your Captain Murdock was kind enough. I have to admit, after everything that happened yesterday, I didn't think it could get any worse." She suddenly stood up and faced the window. "I was wrong."

He had heard her words, but his eyes were focused on something else. It had slipped out of her pocket and it went unnoticed by her as she continued with the details of the night before. He quietly made his way across the room to pick it up as her voice continued to drift his way.

As she stared out the window, she said, "The one thing I still don't understand is why I'm being held here like a prisoner when I've done absolutely nothing wrong." Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him staring intently at a photograph in his hands. A quick check confirmed it was the same one that had been hurriedly and loosely tucked away in her pocket moments before he'd entered the room.

"Colonel Smith?"

"You're not a prisoner here." His mumbled response was distracted by the picture as the older face gave him a vague sense of familiarity that he couldn't quite put a finger on. "And you had every right to inspect your property Miss… Parker."

As he said the name again this time it was with sudden realization. He looked up and their eyes met, a thoughtful expression on his face this time as he offered the picture back to her. "Here, you dropped this. That your old man, the one at Arlington?"

She nodded as the picture changed hands.

"Sorry, kid."

"You know," she pointed at the injection site on her arm then smirked. "You guys have a funny way of apologizing."

He smiled back. She had a sense a humor at least - that helped. "I'll see to it personally that you're taken care of while you're here; so, no more of this prisoner talk, okay?"

Peering into his eyes, she sensed his trust. "All right, Colonel Smith."

_"Hannibal,"_ he insisted.

"Hannibal."

"Now, that we've gotten that out of the way," he motioned her to join him. "Let's grab some grub, shall we?"

* * *

It was B.A.'s turn to pull breakfast duty, much to his delight. He found the kitchen to be one of his favorite rooms in the house, aside from his workshop in the vehicle bay. Making food was a bit like tuning up his van. His spatula was his screwdriver, the raw food his spare parts, ready to be assembled into one fine looking tasty machine.

Face sat at the table, cup of coffee at his fingertips and newspaper already in hand. As he thumbed through the pages, he looked up at the sound of footsteps approaching. He gave a nod to Hannibal as he entered. When he noticed A.J. following close behind, he immediately flashed his smile. "Well, good morning! How's the head?"

She smiled back. "Much better, Mr. Peck. Hope you're shoulder is feeling better."

"It's getting there. Glad to hear it and call me Face." Standing up, he offered a seat to their guest and she accepted with an appreciative smile at his courtesy. Settling back in his own chair, he refilled his mug then poured her a cup.

The liquid was almost scalding to the tongue, but manageable as it brought on a sense of relief. "It's wonderful, thank you."

"Oh, you can thank B.A. over there for that. Speaking of -" Face turned towards the kitchen and called out, "Hey B.A., we've got a guest joining us."

Seconds later, B.A. poked his head through the archway and gave a nod of acknowledgment. One more to cook for was never a problem.

"Aw, look at this review on _Aquamania V_, Hannibal." Face turned the paper towards him, pointing at the text in disgust. "Can you believe this? Those guys wouldn't know good theatrics if it fell out of the sky and -" he stopped abruptly, realizing what he was just about to say. They didn't need another reminder of yesterday's events. He looked at A.J., noticing the cup was frozen in her hands, halfway to her lips which were pursed in worry.

Too late.

Hannibal shot him a look of disapproval and snatched the paper from his hands. Left with the Home and Garden section, Face rolled his eyes and attempted to read, but was distracted by their guest.

Suddenly, he wanted to know more about her. Not only did she share the same first name as his own late father but was always interested in anyone that caught his eye and this time was no different. She wasn't quite along the lines of Stockwell's 'eye candy' that frequently wandered about the house during their downtime, but there was something else that resonated a little deeper.

He quickly looked down to catch a glimpse of her hands. No ring. Now he was _really_ interested.

"So, A.J. Parker," he began, then set the paper down and settled his hand under his chin. "You're a pilot, huh?"

It was an obvious question, but it brought on her smile. "With my dad, it was almost a requirement."

"Ah, so that explains it, like father, like daughter, huh?" He grinned, letting his charisma shine. "You know, I find women with a sense of adventure quite exciting, don't you, Hannibal?"

A very unenthusiastic grunt returned from behind the paper in response.

Face shrugged at Hannibal's passiveness. "Well, maybe one day you could take me up there for a ride sometime."

"You mean a hop?"

Face raised an eyebrow. "Ah, yes of course. Hop," he reiterated, then stared with interest and a flashy grin. "Yeah, one of those _hops_ sound nice, how about it, hmm?"

She was just about to remind him that she had nothing left to fly in, when another voice spoke instead.

"Morning, guys." Murdock strode in, yawning. "Isn't it a beautiful day?"

"Uh," Face turned to look out the nearest window. The drizzling Virginia weather wasn't exactly what he'd call beautiful. "Sure, Murdock." He shrugged.

"It's raining, fool." B.A. stated from the kitchen's doorway, plates of food in hand.

"Hallelujah." Murdock grinned, then grabbed an apple off the basket of fruit that sat in the center of the table. He briskly rubbed the apple along his sleeve and chomped, then glanced over at A.J., who was already looking at him gratefully.

"Thanks again for last night, Captain."

Face nearly spat out a mouthful of coffee. "Did I, uh, _miss_ something here?" he asked, ever so curious as to _what_ exactly she was thanking him for.

"Yeah, you did, Face." Murdock nodded. "Guys, last night while you were all visiting dreamland, I took A.J. here to see her bird. You know, the one we wrecked yesterday, remember?"

"_You_ wrecked." Face rolled his eyes, more at himself for jumping to conclusions.

B.A. immediately pulled the glass of milk from his lips and sputtered, "That's right. You crashed me _again_ \- and I told you the last time, Murdock, I'd -"

For once, Murdock truly ignored B.A. and continued to pace about while B.A. conjured up yet another creative way to have his revenge in an anger laced ramble. When the big guy finally ceased, he stopped behind A.J.'s chair and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Listen guys, we put this poor gal here in quite a predicament."

She suddenly felt a gentle nudge on her shoulder. "Um, yeah," she quickly added, picking up on his idea. "My life depends on that ride. Without her, I can't work my father's business; pay the bills -"

"Maybe you can get another one." B.A. suggested, his glaring eyes still fixed on Murdock.

"That's going to be difficult," she answered, knowing he didn't understand. Yet. "I didn't have commandeering by the A-Team as part of my liability coverage and she's kind of a limited edition. I don't think she can be replaced." When Murdock nudged her again, she quickly added, "Do you think she can be salvaged, Captain?"

"Hmm," Murdock mumbled through another mouthful of apple as he finally plopped down in the empty chair next to B.A. "I don't know." Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his chin in thought. "She's bent up real bad and I heard that one engine lock up pretty tight too."

She immediately fired a look full of confusion and anger at Murdock. That was not what he'd said last night and she was about to protest when his eyes quickly met hers. He winked, revealing his motive just as a mischievous look appeared on his face.

"In fact," Murdock leaned over and poked B.A. "I don't think the big guy here could even fix her."

Surprised to hear such nonsense, B.A. froze in mid chew and looked over at Murdock. After a quick swallow, he said, "Whatcha talking about, _can't fix something?_ I can fix anything, you know that!"

Noticing B.A.'s voice growing louder with every word, Murdock raised his hands defensively. "Now, I wasn't implying anything, big guy. I was just simply stating that a repair job like this might be outside even your mechanical abilities." Seeing B.A.'s fist clench, he rushed to add, "as marvelous as they are."

"Fool, have you lost your mind - _again?_" B.A.'s anger rose, along with his voice.

Murdock grinned. Mental status check achieved, which meant B.A.'s sore spot had been hit. Time to go in for the kill.

"B.A., I can't see that thing in the air ever again. I _know_ you couldn't do it."

"Could so."

"Could not."

_"Could so."_

_"Could not!"_

B.A. threateningly pointed his fork at Murdock. "Now you listen to me, Murdock - I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you jabber on about your made-up ideas in that crazy fool head of yours. You know I can fix anything and that's _final!_" He then slammed the fork down on the empty plate in front of him, pleased he'd had the last word.

"So, why don't we then?" Murdock enthusiastically asked.

B.A.'s expression immediately turned clueless. "Huh?"

Hannibal abruptly lowered the paper, revealing his awkward expression. "Fix a chopper?" Sure, they've modified them countless times, but never fixed one. Not quite like _this._

"You're kidding...right, Murdock?" Face wasn't amused either. "Look, we just got back and, uh, I'm ready for a little relaxing myself. Hey, don't you have a _job_ to get back to?"

Murdock shook his head. "Nope, not anymore. I'm currently unemployed and at your service twenty-four seven. Ain't it great?"

"Yeah, just great." B.A. grumbled sarcastically.

Hannibal looked at Murdock and frowned. "What happened with the Puppy Platter? And with -"

"Oh, _that._" Murdock sighed and his voice fell solemn. "Boss said I had too many sick family members. One more missed shift and I'd be, well... that's all she wrote."

Hannibal pursed his lips in disappointment. "Sorry, Captain."

_"C'est la Vie._ But c'mon guys, this'll be a cinch!" Murdock's eyes lit up, attempting to lift the mood - and change the subject. "It's mostly body work so it won't be that hard." He counting his fingers as he rattled off the list. "A little welding here and there, some minor engine rebuilding, some new sheet metal, a few rivets and a fresh coat of resin and she'll be good as new!" He glanced B.A.'s way. "If the angry mudsucker will let us use his tools."

Now that it no longer held his attention, Hannibal set the paper down completely. "Murdock, do you have any idea how much manpower that will take? That's a good sixty feet of wreckage out there."

"She's fifty-seven feet actually."

Four pairs of curious eyes looked over at A.J. "What was that, Parker?" Hannibal asked.

There was a slightly more confident tone in her voice as she repeated herself. "She's fifty-seven feet. Typical long-ranger length instead of the standard forty-four." As they stared at her in surprise, she returned the same expression. "What?"

Hannibal sighed. She was detailed, which wasn't necessarily a negative in all this. He looked over at the others to see where they stood on the idea. Murdock sat, poised in hopeful thought. Face simply shrugged with his good shoulder, and B.A. was sitting in a funk, not amused by the idea in the least. Shaking his head, he dug into his coat for a cigar and fished around for a lighter. "Murdock, you really want the four of us to do this?"

"Five," A.J. answered first, pointing to herself. "You can't expect me to just sit there and watch, do you?"

_"Well, good morning, gentleman - and lady of course."_

They all looked up to see Stockwell's flashy smile and umbrella in hand, which was handed to a soaked Able behind him. "Glad to see you are all up and about and still in one piece. And, Miss Parker, I see you're feeling better too. Or should I say, _Lieutenant_ Parker? With all the excitement around here yesterday, we haven't been properly introduced."

Hannibal clenched his teeth around his cigar and looked up in surprise, just in time to see Face mouth the word _'lieutenant'_ to Murdock, who nodded back at him.

"Thank you, General, but that's former." She reached for her cup, hoping it would ease her sudden trembling fingers. There was something about him that made her nervous and it wasn't the title of General. Maybe it was his eyes boring into her through tinted glasses, or the security accompanying him continuing to eye her suspiciously.

"Yes, of course. I hope you found last night's stay _accommodating._"

She looked up. Was that a possible hint of sarcasm? She couldn't tell. "It was fine, thank you," she replied, then brought the cup to her lips once again.

Hannibal drew in a long inhale, forced a smile and motioned towards an empty chair. "Join us, General, won't you?" Wanting to get his claws as deep into the Stockwell as he could, he added, with a cheeky grin, "We were just discussing how great things turned out yesterday. Maybe you'd like to add in your input as well?"

Stockwell held his hand up to decline and resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Hannibal's attempt to get under his skin. "That won't be necessary, Colonel. I thought we could discuss our little breach in security with our visitor's late-night expedition instead." He gave Murdock a chilling gaze. "I told you once before that this was not a college dorm, Captain. Since when do we let our visitors roam about the premises in all hours of the night?"

"When they become innocent bystanders," Murdock immediately answered, along with a cold stare of his own.

"General," Hannibal broke in. "You should know by now that that your security isn't _able_ enough to handle things around here. He had the situation under control, so what's the problem? She's right here."

Stockwell pondered Hannibal's statement, knowing it was pointless to argue. "All right then. No harm done so I am willing to dismiss last night's events - which leaves the matter of her property you've commandeered."

"Stole," A.J. muttered under her breath.

Stockwell wasted no time answering, "Seeing as you accompanied your property here, I do believe that term can be dismissed moving forward."

"I agree," Murdock immediately interjected. "And right now we're currently discussing how to fix it, so she can get out of here."

B.A. scrunched his face in retort. "I still think that idea is as crazy as you."

"Hey, you said you could do it, Big Guy!" Murdock stood up abruptly and abandoned the idea of lighthearted convincing. "We broke it, so we bought it, guys." He pointed a finger at Stockwell. "And _you're_ responsible."

The uneasiness grew as Stockwell and Murdock traded glares.

"Now wait just a minute!" Face shot a look of displeasure at, well, _everyone._ "We all just got back and you know just as well as I do that we don't get much downtime in-between these missions you send us on anymore and-" He stopped as Stockwell, Hannibal and Murdock fired warning glances his way, realizing he'd forgotten he had to watch what was said around her. In fact, he might've just said too much already. Frustrated with it all, he asked, "Well, just what is in this for _me?_"

A.J. answered before any else could, "My everlasting gratitude for helping me get back to work, Face?" She smiled appreciatively. "Because how else can I take you for that hop you asked about?"

"Oh, right." He stared at her, then down to her smiling lips and quickly changed his tune. "Well, that's true, I guess. Yeah, maybe it's only fair that we should at least _try,_ you know?"

Stockwell eyed them all questioningly, then scoffed. "Well, I'll leave this matter to your discretion, gentlemen. If you all want to play _Mr. Fix-It _on your downtime, by all means. I'm sure a little hands-on project would be an extra incentive for you all to stay on the premises. Okay, Parker - you have two weeks."

"General?"

"I'm giving you and the team exactly two weeks; after which you and your property must be off the premises, fixed or not. In return, you will not mention the A-Team, myself, or this place to anyone, _ever._ Do you understand?"

Realizing things might just be going her way, she quickly answered, "Yes, sir." She looked up at him just as he removed his glasses, and she saw the cold, hard stare in his eyes.

"I want your _word_, Miss Parker."

By the tone in his voice, she knew he meant business. Her confident eyes met his icy ones. "My word is given, General."

"Then it's settled." He returned the glasses to his face and his smug grin appeared once again. "You may continue to use the quarters assigned to you, _however,_ you are in a secure facility and I expect you will show a bit of decorum during your stay here. There are those here that will see to that." He squared his jaw then motioned towards the two Ables behind him to emphasize his warning. "Understood?"

"I understand. Thank you, General."

Stockwell pondered the thought, wondering if this could be used for his amusement after all. "Colonel Smith, if you are successful in completing the work prior to your two weeks, I'd be willing to give your team another mission credit."

Hannibal looked up mid-puff in surprise.

"Seriously?" Face asked.

"Call it... an incentive as to keeping one of your many abilities in top form. I don't think I have to remind you all that this would be one step closer to your pardons."

Hannibal's eyes met Stockwell's and a long column of smoke appeared from his lips before he gave a nod in concurrence.

"Well, gentleman, it seems like you've got little side project to keep yourselves busy. Until next time..." Stockwell turned and he was gone out the front door; leaving the five individuals sitting around the table to exchange awkward glances.

"Well, that was quite unexpected," Hannibal commented.

"Yeah, since when did Stockwell get so _generous_?" B.A. muttered.

Face shrugged. "It's probably just a drop in the bucket anyway. How many missions do we have left again?"

"You know, it doesn't take a genius to figure out what's going on around here." A.J.'s curious eyes met Hannibal's, who shook his head, dismissing her astuteness.

"That, kid, is a long story and right now we have a lot of work to do." Hannibal glanced over at Murdock. "You're in charge of this one, Captain. Let's go." He stood up and made his way to the door, as Face dropped the newspaper, finished the last of his coffee and stood to follow.

Murdock polished off the last bite of his apple before tossing the core with a classic three-point shot in the nearest wastebasket. "And the crowd goes wild!" He cheered, raising his arms in victory, "Tell him what he's won, Roddy! Well, he just won a chance to fix a broken down whirly-bird!" After giving her a quick wink, he made a hasty exit.

She stood up as well; and just before she turned to leave, she looked towards a scowling B.A. still in mid-breakfast. "I know you really didn't volunteer for this, but I really do appreciate it. I just wanted you to know that. Um, thank you, B.A." she told him, then hurried out as well.

B.A. felt the anger subside at her gracious comment, then was left alone to ponder how Murdock suckered him into this so easily. He hurriedly finished the last of his milk and headed outside as well.

For once he felt like the fool.


	5. Chapter 5 - Whatever it Takes

Chapter 5 - Whatever It Takes

* * *

_"Alright guys, let's see how bad this thing really is…"_

Hannibal's voice echoed as they walked into the garage bay. They all stood pondering the wreckage for a moment, wondering where to start, then four pairs of questioning eyes looked to their resident expert.

"Well, uh, first things first." Murdock's confidence had faltered, but only for a moment. "We need a look at her frame to see if she's bent." He stretched an arm out and gestured to the entire side of the chopper's torn hull. "So, all this aluminum sheeting here has gotta come off."

"Hmm, sounds easy enough. I'll do it," Hannibal offered. "Although it would be a lot faster if we doubled up. Face?"

"Don't look at me," Face gestured to his shoulder. "Not for a few days, anyway."

"I can help with that," A.J. volunteered.

He eyed her up, then hesitated. "Think you're well enough to tap out some rivets, kid?"

She straightened at a textbook stand of attention. "_Yessir,_ Colonel!"

"All right." He raised an eyebrow and the uncertainty vanished. "Lax on the rank, _Lieutenant_. I get your point."

"Oh man," Murdock excitedly ran his hand across the helicopter's broken tail. "The thought of stripping this baby down and getting to know her from the inside out - _owooooo!_" he howled in delight.

Face watched in amusement as A.J. blushed a bright shade of red just before ducking behind the fuselage with Hannibal. "Murdock, you've always had a way with the ladies." He pointed an index finger upwards, a sudden idea coming to mind. "Hey, we'll need a parts inventory and someone to call and order them. I'll take care of that." He then wandered off to search for a pad of paper and a pen. The less grease he got on his hands, the better. In his mind anyway.

Murdock continued. "And B.A., if you can get at the engines and maybe find out why she kept trying to stall out on us back here, that'd be great."

"Right." B.A. didn't need to hear anything else and immediately headed towards his toolboxes. A quick flip of a switch of the radio and the blast of Bob Segar's 'Shakedown' filled the air as they picked out their tools and headed to their respective areas. Soon after, the loud clangs of mechanical work accompanied the background music.

As the time passed, B.A. decided he really didn't mind doing the work he'd been so-called 'volunteered' for. Making other things tick is what made him tick. He was in the zone now, immersing himself in a mixture of oily bolts, bearings and gears. This was his purpose in life. He was Mr. Fix It and he was the best.

He'd prove it, especially to that crazy fool.

"Here ya go, Face." Murdock held a clipboard out of the cockpit window. "Parts we need so far; better start calling around."

Soon after, Face was on the phone to the local machine shops and warehouse distributors. "What do you mean, you don't have any rotor calibrators in stock?" He ducked as Murdock playfully threw a broken gauge over his head, then glared at him. "Next week? What about..."

From across the bay, A.J. was listening to the endless list of parts Face rattled off. The tab she was keeping in her head was adding up quickly. "I don't mean to pry, but how is all of this getting paid for?"

Face lowered the receiver from his mouth. "Consider it courtesy of the General's tab." Hearing the voice ramble on the other end once again, he quickly went back to his conversation on the phone. "Yes, that's Stockwell. Yes, Hunt. You should have my account on file, right? Great…"

"Well, in that case," Murdock chuckled evilly. "I think this calls for a full refit, guys!"

Hannibal grinned. "I can't wait to see the look on his face when he gets the bill."

Meanwhile, A.J. was intently watching B.A. as he worked on the engines just a few feet away. Inspired by his hand moving at a rapid speed, she quickly returned to her task at hand and attempted to keep up with the swift pace.

A few yards away, it didn't take long for Hannibal to form his opinion about his newfound helper as they kept busy on their task. What she lacked in strength was made up with efficiency and focus and her sheer determination eventually convinced him she would be an asset to this idea; this _plan_.

"So tell me about your old man - you and him fly together a lot?" It was small talk to simply pass the time as they worked.

"Yeah, I was his co-pilot for a few years until he insisted I join the Force too. I told him I was perfectly happy working the business, but he kept saying there was more to learn besides just flying."

He smiled. "He sounded like a wise man."

Her voice wavered. "He was... a great dad... and a great pilot."

"And what about you?" he curiously asked.

"Me?" She hesitated, then shrugged. "I'm no plumber."

"Plumber?" Hannibal's face scrunched in confusion.

"Crummy pilot." Murdock called out from the cockpit, hearing their conversation from below.

"Oh, right." Hannibal shrugged off the jargon, then went back to his task at hand - prying out an exceptionally stubborn rivet.

She breathed a sigh of relief, glad she didn't have to explain. Again. She smiled up at Murdock, who winked back.

"Hey, that's exactly what Murdock is; a _plumber._" B.A. teased. "This fool crashed us so many times, he needs to get working on my bathroom sink. Whatcha waiting for - get to it, man!" After a fit of giggles, he went back to work.

"The unclogging will have to wait, big guy, my hands are full at the moment." Murdock shrugged off the insult, knowing as long as B.A. was happy, he was working to his maximum potential.

The work continued and more and more bolts and rivets were removed. As the torn metal debris piled up, it wasn't long before one side of the chopper's belly was completely free of the outer sheet metal. Murdock wasted no time in circling the chopper, closely inspecting the exposed frame.

"Wow, would you look at that..." he wondered aloud and leaned in for a closer look.

"What?" She looked at the frame, then to him with concern. "Is it bent up too bad?"

"Nope, quite the contrary." He pointed at the exposed belly of the beast. "Look, frame's as straight as a die; jig looks undamaged too. Guys, we're pretty much good to go here!"

She breathed a huge sigh of relief. Maybe this once seemingly impossible goal wasn't so unattainable after all.

* * *

"All right, it's five o'clock guys; time to start packing it in for the day."

As B.A.'s stomach growled, he knew Hannibal's words couldn't have come at a better time. "Yeah, and it's Face's turn to cook tonight!"

"Work all day slaving over the phones _and_ cook for five?" Face groaned, then immediately lit up in sudden realization. "On second thought, I'll call out for pizza. It's been awhile since I've talked to Gina anyway. Hey, you like pizza, A.J.?"

"Sure, who doesn't?" she called back.

"Fantastic, I knew I liked you, kid!" Face grinned, then picked up the phone for what felt like the hundredth time today.

B.A. began wiping his wrenches with a shop towel before putting them back in his toolbox. He turned and was suddenly staring at an air ratchet being held out to him.

"Here you go, Sergeant." Her appreciative smile beamed his way. "I cleaned it first."

"Thanks." He smiled back as he took it from her. "Hey, you need to teach the other guys that." The show of respect towards his tools was enough to warrant an approving nod. She didn't know it, but B.A. been watching her work as well.

"You did real good today," he said, nodding towards the bare frame of the chopper.

"Me?" She shook her head. "Nah, unscrewing bolts and tapping out rivets isn't hard. But having the knowledge you do about helo engines? Wow, let's just say Captain Murdock was right."

"Right about what?" He pursed his lips at just the name _Murdock_. "What's that nut been saying about me?"

She grinned. "That you were the best."

"He's right about that." He smiled back, then proudly pointed to his chest. "You know, all these guys would be pushing their wheels if it weren't for me."

As if on cue, Face looked their way, placed a hand over the phone's receiver and said with a solemn tone, "That reminds me, my 'vette needs an oil change. I'll bring her in here once there's some _room,_" Face teased. "Pizza'll be ready in about an hour guys."

Finally, all of B.A.'s tools were back in their proper place. After watching B.A. and Face head back to the house, A.J. decided to hang back and curiously poked her head inside the cockpit.

"Bet you've never seen her look like a skeleton, huh?" Murdock's voice drifted from behind her.

She shook her head. The sight of the empty gauge holes and exposed wiring was a first.

"Well, she won't be that way for long." He kicked a broken skid with his black Chuck Taylor, adding, "Now that we got all that weight off her frame, we'll get her back on a good set of rails too."

She curiously studied him for a moment. "Captain, earlier I heard you say that you used to work at the-" she stopped to recall the name, "Puppy Platter... isn't that a restaurant?"

"Yeah. It was," he corrected her.

"Why would an experienced pilot like yourself be working at a place like that?" she asked, quite confused at the thought.

"Um, well..." Murdock fumbled at her question, knowing this wasn't the best time to tell her that he lacked a certain _valid_ certification. "Let's save that story for another day." Quickly changing the subject, he offered her the clipboard instead. "Here, this is what I've come up with so far, lemme know what you think. If Face did his job right, we'll start getting new parts here in the next day or so."

She eyed him for a moment, then took the clipboard and pen. After skimming down the list, she looked up in surprise. "_C_arbon fiber sheeting?"

"Told ya I was gonna refit her!" He slyly grinned. "She'll hold together a lot better than your old aluminum, especially around the fuel tanks, and you probably won't even notice the difference. It'll take a little adjusting on your part, but when she's finished, we'll take her up together so you get a feel for her first if you want."

"_When_ she's finished." she repeated, slowly began to realize that he'd already seen the finish line in his mind.

"Well, Hannibal always says if you're gonna have a plan, you better be thinking one-step ahead - at least."

"You know, Captain, the last thing I'd ever imagined was you and I flying together." She scribbled a few more notes, then smiled back; his optimism contagious. "But I think I can get used to the idea."

Murdock chuckled. Then he blushed.

_"Parker...?"_

A.J. turned in surprise at the feminine voice, one she'd never heard before. There in the bay's doorway, a blonde woman impatiently stood, her hands resting on her hips.

Murdock leaned over and whispered, "That's Carla, Stockwell's assistant."

"Thanks," she whispered back, wondering how he'd read her mind, then called out, "Yes, ma'am?"

"General Stockwell wants to see you." Carla motioned A.J. to join her. "Let's go."

A.J. offered Murdock the clipboard, which he accepted. "I guess I'll see you at dinner, Captain Murdock."

"Call me H.M.! That's my name, you know."

"Okay." She smiled. "Next time."

He watched her walk away, then looked down at his list and noticed she'd written a note in careful print at the very bottom.

_To invent is nothing, to build is something, but to fly is everything. - Otto Lilienthal_

The word 'everything' was circled many times. He looked up just in time to see the last of her disappear out of the door, left with a dumbfounded smile on his face and the tingle of butterflies in his stomach.

* * *

"You wanted to see me, General?"

Stockwell looked up from the file he'd been reading moments prior. "Ah, yes, Parker. Have a -" he stopped, noticing her appearance, as she attempted to wipe the dirt off her hands, "seat."

"Thanks, but I'd better stand." She eyed him, then teased, "Uh, no needles this time, right?"

Ignoring her question, Stockwell stared at her in silence, his hand to chin in thought. He suddenly closed the file he's been holding and slid it across the desk to her.

She looked down. Atop of the folder, a black and white picture was clipped to the front flap and it had her full attention immediately. She slid the photo out from under the clip and stared at the young man dressed in full flight gear, standing proudly next to an F-86F Sabre. She could see his beaming smile and his hand resting on a drawn-up knee that was propped on a nearby ladder.

"Where," her voice cracked with grief, "where did you find this?"

"That was in his file; quite an exemplary service record, indeed." His voice was smug, as he thumbed through the other folder in his hand. "The same could be said for you too, at least until the end anyway."

The heat rose under her collar as she curiously opened the folder, skimmed the first page of what she now recognized as her entire military file. "For the record, I'd just received word of his death the day prior, General."

"Your last commanding officer reported that you refused to report for duty and even made the excuse that you'd forgotten how to fly, despite the fact that you had a flawless flight record up to that point. Tell me, did you intentionally sabotage your career?"

"No, _sir._" She suddenly winced, knowing she couldn't lie to him. "Well, _maybe..._"

"Yet, you still wear that." He pointed at her attire.

She looked down at her jumpsuit, then back at him. She pursed her lips, telling him she had nothing to say in return.

"The A-Team isn't the only one who can fix things, you know." A hint of dark amusement played in his eyes. "I can have you reinstated back at Langley Base by Monday, just say the word."

"I'd have to say no, General." She stared at him in disbelief, then shook her head. "I'd rather get things fixed and back to business."

"Do you make it a habit of walking away from things so easily? Why are you so content to just 'get by' in the civilian world, when you're capable of so much more?"

"Because of him." She turned the picture to show Stockwell. "And it wasn't easy. I might've walked away from my military career, but I'm not walking away from that bird and everything that he built. It's up to me now to keep his dream alive, whatever it takes."

"If that's what you really want. Is it?"

"What I want?" She bit her lip in thought. What did she want? How about going back to yesterday, when things had a sense of normalcy? Or perhaps even last year, when she could look her father in the eyes and tell him that she loved him. "What I want, is to go back in time to have the chance to say goodbye. Can you do that, General?"

"Alright, you've made yourself quite clear, Parker. Good evening."

She tucked the new picture of her father into her pocket and handed her file back to him. She stopped when she reached for the door, then turned to face him once again.

"I do appreciate the offer - and I would like to ask for something, General. If it's not too much trouble."

"Oh? What's that?"

"A few extras?" She tugged at the collar of her filthy jumpsuit and smiled. "Thanks, General."

He almost smiled back. Almost. "Carla will take care of anything you need."

* * *

"Hey, toss me another beer, will ya, Face?" Hannibal kicked his feet up on the coffee table to lean back on the couch, then caught the can that came flying through the air seconds later.

Murdock leaned over the pool table and lined up his cue. "I don't know about you guys, but I think fixing 'em is a lot harder than flying 'em!" A single shot sank two striped balls and he grinned proudly at his skill.

B.A. growled until Face handed him a glass of milk to distract him. He nodded to Face in thanks, then turned back to the television just as a yawn broke from his lips.

"Boy, I can't remember when a hot shower felt that good." A.J. breathed a sigh of relief from the pool table adjacent to the living room.

"I bet. Feeling sore, are we?" A playful smile hinted at Face's lips while he tended the small bar in the living room; half empty pizza boxes stacked off to the side on the nearby table.

"Just a little," she admitted sheepishly. What she didn't tell him that just raising the pool cue in her hands was enough to bring on a wince that was getting harder to hide each time it was her turn.

Face made his way across the room, a drink in each hand. "Here, this should help." He held up a glass brimming with red wine, then pulled it back, teasing, "Hey, wait a minute - you're over twenty-one, right?"

"By a long shot, Face." She knowingly smirked as she accepted the drink, then stared at it questioningly. "I guess it's okay... it'll be a lot longer than eight hours before I'm up there again."

"Your turn," Murdock told her, then downed the highball glass of water that Face had handed to him moments before. "And you know what they say - _a pilot may drink the wine of the Gods_..."

"Lindberg," she plainly answered, then set her glass down and raised her pool cue. She looked up to meet Murdock's enthused stare, just before scratching with an obvious novice shot. Again. She groaned in embarrassment. "Ugh, I don't think I'm ever going to get the hang of this."

"You have some time to learn." Face encouraged her as he pulled the ball from the pocket and put it back on the table to reset the shot. "It's all about the angle of attack, you know." He stood behind her and helped her position the pool cue. This time, he took the shot and the ball ricocheted three times before sinking into the corner pocket with ease.

"Wow..."

"See - what did I tell you?" He held onto the pool cue, probably a little longer than normal - just long enough to stare into her eyes. When she returned his amused expression, he stared into her eyes and couldn't help but notice the color - hazel. "You just have to pick up the basic, uh, _fundamentals._"

"All right, let me try again." She attempted another shot - solo this time and sent a solid ball into the corner pocket, then the cue ball straight into a side right after.

"Ugh, here!"

Face couldn't help but laugh as she passed him the cue with lighthearted frustration. "The fundamentals will be right over here whenever you're ready."

"Sorry I'm not much of a worthy opponent here, Captain."

"So pool's not your game. Big whoop, right?" Murdock shrugged then sank two, then the eight ball. "What _is_ your game, A.J.?"

"It's funny you should ask that..." she began, then reached into an inner pocket of her new jumpsuit, courtesy of Stockwell.

From the couch, a curious Hannibal turned to look behind him and noticed the well-worn deck of cards now in her hand.

Quite interested now, his eyebrows raised...


	6. Chapter 6 - Off-suit Omissions

**Chapter 6 – Off-suit Omissions**

* * *

A/N: I threw these extra scenes in here at the request of a big fan, who told me, "You _have_ to have them playing cards!" Request granted - might pad out the scene and time gaps a little more as things come to mind...

* * *

_"Up and at 'em, Parker - your bird awaits!" _

Hannibal Smith's commanding yell was enough to jolt her awake - and left her momentarily wondering if she really _had_ traveled back in time and back to basic training all over again.

"I'm up, thanks!" she called back, then looked at the clock. Seven on the dot. She groaned - first at the time, then from the screaming muscles in her arms as she pulled on a brand new jumpsuit; one of five now hanging in the nearby closet, along with a stack of t-shirts, flight issue socks and various _essentials_, all neatly stacked and sorted as if she were a VIP guest at the Hilton.

"Wow," she whispered in awe. There was a sense of acceptance finally, knowing they really did take care of one's needs here.

She quickly left her room and headed downstairs, ready to start day two of Murdock's plan. On entering the dining area, she was surprised to see only two of the guys there. "Morning guys, thanks again for the wake-up call."

"Morning!" Face grinned, then wagged his eyebrows. "Ready to get down and dirty all over again?"

"Well, I'm sure not going to say 'no_'_." She stared at the coffee longingly, then saw two empty and dirty plates on the table telling the story that breakfast had been served already. "Where's B.A. and Murdock?"

"Already back to it," Hannibal answered from behind the newspaper. "Murdock got a jump on breakfast and they headed out early."

She nodded, then looked down at her plate and curiously asked, "What _is_ this?"

Face answered, "Ah, that would be Murdock's specialty - poached eggs."

"What's this red stuff?"

"His secret ingredient."

She hesitated, then tried a bite and her eyes widened in surprised. "Huh, who would've thought?" she wondered aloud, then finished as fast as humanly possible, knowing there was another long day of planned work ahead.

* * *

_"You're listening to Q107, D.C.'s hot new radio station and up next we've got a fantastic summer hit..."_

The radio was blaring full blast today, matching the loud clangs, bangs and air-tool whirls of the accompanying work. B.A. was immersed in the engines, Hannibal and A.J. were paired up again, stripping the last of the hull from the frame, Murdock was hiding out in the cockpit, or so Face was convinced - who was back at the desk and on the phone for another day of parts scavenging.

"Hey Face, how's the shoulder?" Hannibal called out to him after an hour back on the phones.

Face raised his arm over his head and shrugged. "Eh, not too bad today, why?

"We sure could use a third pair of hands over here for a little bit."

Face abandoned the desk to walk over to them and saw A.J. gripping her biceps and wincing hard.

"Equality, huh?" he teased. "Whatever happened to _'I am woman, hear me roar'_?"

"She just needs to limber up first!" she lightheartedly glared, then sighed in frustration at the situation. "I'll be ready to get back to it in a few minutes, promise."

"Hey, A.J.," Murdock called out from the cockpit. 'If _Mr. Miyagi_ from that Karate Kid movie were here, he could do that hand-healing trick and fix you up real quick, am I right? _Wax-on, wax-off!_"

"I love that movie!" She lit up at his mentioning of it. "Did you see the second one yet?"

"No, and by that look on your face, I think I need to give _Blockbuster_ a visit tonight!"

"Oh _geez_, here we go," Face knowingly rolled his eyes at them, then turned back to the rivets. He smiled proudly as he pounded out his first rivet with ease... and with a mission credit on the line, his strikes were straight and true each time.

_Just like the Karate Kid..._

* * *

_Everybody here is outta sight, t__hey don't bark and they don't bite._  
_They keep things loose, they keep things a-light. _  
_Everybody was dancing in the moonlight.  
King Harvest ~'72  
_

Hannibal nodded his head in time to the music as he struck the match and held it to the tip of his El Capitan. As the smoke drifted upwards, he looked down at his somewhat pathetic pile of chips.

"Your deal, Face."

"Okay. Game is five-card draw, deuces wild. It's ten to play, so ante up." Face shuffled, then swiftly dealt the hand while everyone tossed their chips in. He lifted his cards and smiled… inwardly of course. "Murdock, your bet," he reminded him as the clock dragged on.

"_We like our fun and we never fight. Y__ou can't dance and stay uptight_ \- oh, sorry." Murdock, distracted by the song playing on the radio, looked thoughtfully at his cards. "Uh...I'll check."

"I'll raise five." Hannibal added a chip to the pile. "We had a pretty good second day if I do say so myself."

"Speak for yourself," B.A. told him as he called the bet, then growled at his luck. Not just in poker, but today in general - not Stockwell either.

"Call and raise another five," A.J. said and added two chips to the pot. "Did you figure out what was wrong with the right engine yet, B.A.?"

"No, not yet. Sorry guys."

"Don't worry B.A., we're only back on schedule instead of being another day ahead," Face sarcastically teased then threw his chips in. "Raise twenty."

"You wish, _Bluffer-Face!_" Murdock snorted, then looked across the table. "I just know tomorrow's gonna be your day, B.A."

Hannibal silently called as well, while B.A. tossed three of his chips in the pot, then three in his mouth - the edible kind.

"How many cards, Murdock?" Face impatiently asked, then looked at his watch. Ten-thirty.

"_Hold on_, I'm thinking." Murdock glared as he chewed his thumbnail, then finally answered, "Two."

"Three," Hannibal requested, as did B.A. "A.J.?"

"Two, please."

"Here you guys go… I'll take one." Face dealt their cards respectively. "Murdock, it's your bet. C'mon, quit stalling!"

"Fine. Raise twenty."

Hannibal threw his cards away in disgust for the third hand in a row. B.A. giggled at him, then threw in two chips to call.

"Raise... thirty." She counted seven then tossed them into the ever growing pile.

Face looked at his cards, then at her smile. He grinned back, then threw in five red chips, then ten more. "Raise."

Murdock squared his jaw, then silently called.

B.A. immediately folded and raised his hands in defeat. "I'm done. For the night too."

"Raise you another... fifty." She added ten more chips in what was now the biggest pile of chips the night had seen.

Face stared at her intently. "Hmm, you trying to bluff me, kid?" Looking for _any_ tells of what she might have, he suddenly grinned, then called without haste.

"We're about to find out," Murdock muttered as he called too.

Face smirked as he confidently showed his cards. Two aces, two kings and a ten.

"_Nice_, Face." Hannibal commented with a cheeky grin. "High two-pair."

Face smugly looked at Murdock and A.J., then taunted them with, "Beat _that_, guys."

Murdock's confidence was apparent as he laid _his_ cards down. Two jacks, a six, and nine… and a two.

B.A. laughed at him. "That's three of a kind, you're out, Face!" He watched the conman's face solemnly fall.

All eyes were on her now and she looked back at them with the same stoic look she wore all night.

Murdock suddenly dared her, "C'mon, A.J. are ya bluffing, or are you gonna show us a winning hand?"

She shook her head in defeat, then solemnly laid her cards down one at a time. "You got me, guys," A four, a seven, an eight, a queen and an ace.

All hearts.

_"No!"_ Murdock gaped in disbelief as he watched her triumphant smile spread across her face. He muttered in full Sean Connery mode, "Shocking. Positively shocking."

"You just got flushed, Captain!" Hannibal teased, while B.A. erupted into giggles.

Face grinned. "Logan Ross, eat your heart out!"

* * *

_"Let's fire 'er up, Captain!"_

This was the pivotal moment after the third day of constant, painstaking work and they now stood huddled together, watching and waiting in anticipation.

At Hannibal's command, Murdock gripped the cyclic and keyed the engine. He revved the throttle gently, but it stalled out on the first attempt. After a disappointed groan, he tried to coax it gently, muttering, "C'mon, gal we're all counting on you."

"Hold on a sec." B.A. reached for his tool belt and pulled out a screwdriver. He tightened a loose clamp, made a quick adjustment and wiped down the excess oil and fuel with a rag. "Okay, should work now."

On the second try, a big puff of blue smoke and a loud bang erupted as both engines sputtered and finally came to life with a roar. They all covered their ears as the deafening sound of the mechanical heart now beat before them.

Pleased with the results, Hannibal gave a thumbs up at Murdock, who stuck his hand out of the cockpit window and returned the gesture. Then he released the choke and revved it once more, then he flipped the off switch, bringing silence once again.

"Number five is _alive!_" Murdock laughed manically in Frankenstein fashion, then jumped from the cockpit. "Well, she ain't pretty yet, but we sure got her ticking!"

"Not _we..._" A.J. pulled her hands from her ears and couldn't help but throw her arms around B.A.'s torso in both excitement and appreciation. Hearing that engine come to life again was like a jolt of electricity. "B.A., I can't believe you got her running again! How can I ever thank you?"

Surprised at the affection, B.A. hesitated before giving a gentle pat on her back before she pulled away. Of all the times he had to fix this, build that, the guys never appreciated his work quite like this. "Hey, give me another day and I'll have it purring like a kitten." His chest puffed, along with his ego.

Moments later, Murdock ran over and planted a kiss square on his bearded cheek. "I knew you could do it. Thanks, big guy!"

"_Gah!_" B.A. wiped his face with the back of his hand and scrunched his face in displeasure. "You're welcome, but you still didn't have to trick me like that."

"B.A., what would've you said if I had just come right out and asked you?" Murdock teasingly poked a finger at B.A.'s chest. "That's right - that big, bad mudsucker attitude of yours would've said _no. _Right? C'mon, _admit it!_"

While the banter carried on, A.J. could only stand idly by, simply shaking her head in amazement at what they'd already accomplished in such a short amount of time. Not only was the engine up and running, but the new skids were affixed earlier that day and the new hull was slowly beginning to take shape. She longingly stared at the new rotor blades leaning against the far wall, next to an ever-growing stack of parts that'd begun to arrive by the hour.

The engine was one victory worth taking the time to celebrate, but there was still so much work to be done and the clock was still ticking.

By the time she turned her attention back to continuing the work, the ruckus between Murdock and B.A. had escalated to Murdock's head playfully clamped under B.A.'s thick muscular bicep.

"C'mon, B.A.!" Murdock pleaded between gasps of air. "I show my appreciation for your mechanical genius and this is how you repay me? Hey,_ leggo!_"

"Nuh-uh, you owe me this." B.A. warned him, squeezing harder. "I told you I was gonna get my revenge for crashing me again and now you gotta pay - _my way!"_

"Do they do this _all_ the time?" A.J. curiously asked.

Hannibal grinned. "Some things never change."

"Yeah," Face chuckled. "Would you believe they've actually mellowed out this past year?"

"Really?" she giggled.

"_Ow, _you're taking my ears off here!" Murdock protested louder. "You made your point and I gotta get back to work here!"

_"B.A."_ Hannibal warned.

"Please don't hurt him, B.A," A.J. called out. "I'm going to need his help flying out of here when we're all done."

B.A. eyed her, then released Murdock at her request, telling him, "You got lucky this time."

"See? I knew you would've said _no,_" Murdock grumbled, then picked up his hat, which had fallen in the scuffle. As he straightened it atop his head, he saw A.J.'s amused glance, then blushed furiously at the fact she'd just seen his hair, or lack thereof.

"Okay guys, that's lunch." Hannibal confirmed the time with a quick glance at his watch. "One hour."

"You know, Hannibal," Face piped up. "We've been going at for three days straight and we're way ahead of schedule. How about cutting us loose early for a change?"

"Yeah, I finally got this thing running again," B.A. agreed for once. "It's Sunday man and there's a Bear's game coming on in an hour."

Hannibal considered the request as he lit the cigar clenched in his teeth. "All right. Seems like we all have a little pent up energy. Let's take the rest of the day off, shall we?"

Hannibal's suggestion was well received by everyone, except one. Her look of concern was immediately answered with, "Kid, we could all use some R & R, including you. Trust me, we're way ahead of schedule. We'll start fresh tomorrow, alright?"

Pulling away from a one-track mind proved to be more difficult than initially thought, but hesitation soon gave way and she nodded in agreement.

It wasn't long before they began the trek back to the house, one by one. Face sighed in contentment after giving a quick stretch. After three days, he was beginning to feel the confinement of the vehicle bay. It had been a long time since they had taken on a project so massive and time consuming. Pent-up energy was an understatement and he was ready to break free.

"Say, A.J.," He hurried his pace and caught her stride. "Why don't we get you out of here for a while?"

"Really?" She lit up at his idea. "That sounds great. Thanks, Face!"

"Fantastic!" He beamed. He was just about to put his arm around her shoulder, saw it was covered in grease and dirt and decided against it. "Yeah, I thought we could go out for a night on the town. You know, a nice dinner, a little dancing. You know, I could get us into some of the best clubs in D.C. and -"

"Actually," she hesitated, then admitted, "Could I get a ride back home for a bit? I know I have some loose ends to tie up with not being there for a couple days - if it's not too much trouble of course."

"Ah, it's no trouble at all, it would be my pleasure." Face reassured her with his charismatic smile. Any chance he could get away from the Langley house and from the smell of grease and oil for a few hours sounded like heaven.

On reaching the house, A.J. immediately headed upstairs, eager to wash away the layers of oil and dirt that were beginning to feel all too familiar. Face watched her leave, then casually turned B.A.'s way. "Ya mind if I take the van, B.A.? My 'vette's still in the shop."

"You know I don't like anyone driving my van but me, Faceman."

"Oh, come on now don't be selfish, B.A. It's been sitting in the garage all week, and you know how it tends to act up if it's not driven on a regular basis, right?"

_Con man strikes again._

"Hey, no worries, B.A." Murdock chimed in. "I'll tag along too and make sure he brings it back in one piece."

Face glanced over at him in question, then protested, "Uh, Murdock, you don't have to come along. "I'm quite capable of -"

"We all know what you're _capable of,_ Face." Hannibal's voice broke in, firing a knowing glance his way. "I think Murdock going along is a good idea."

"You better be careful with my van," B.A. warned Face as he tossed him the keys. "If anything happens to my wheels, I'll take it out on your hide. You too, Murdock!"

* * *

Hannibal and Face were usually the ones who shared the duets through the years. But this time, as the familiar Mr. Mister song hit the airwaves, Murdock and Face eyed each other knowingly, then belted out, quite loudly, _"Take... these broken wings... and learn to fly again, learn to live so free..." _

"You guys, that is _not_ funny!" A.J. couldn't help but laugh, then joined in at, _"And when we hear, the voices sing... the book of love will open up for us and let us in!"_

"Yeah, _me!" _Face hissed at Murdock.

Murdock scoffed back, "Not if I can help it," then turned down the radio. "Hey, A.J., you ever spin a three-sixty on the tip of a skid? Or as I like to call it, the _ballerina?"_

"What? No way! Why would I - wait, have _you?_" She stared at him in amazement as he nodded in reply.

"Sure, I'll show ya sometime." Murdock evilly grinned at Face, who stared back in disbelief.

"Now that was below the belt, _twinkle-toes,_" Face told him, then resigned with gentle laughter. "I taught you well, Murdock."

"So what's new with you Face?" Murdock curiously asked. "How's Ellen?"

"Oh, uh... _engaged._" Face smiled at the thought. "She says you're invited to the wedding in September. That's when the baby's due."

"Uncle Face!" Murdock gaped. "Wow, when did _that_ happen?"

"When she came back to check on me after the whole, you know - getting shot thing."

"What?" A.J. now stared at _him_ in amazement this time. "You got shot?"

"Yeah, just nicked an artery - occupational hazard, you know?" His eyes lit up - when all else fails... "Hey want to see my scar?" He leaned over while lifting up his shirt to show her and...

_*HOOOOONK!*_

_"Face!"_

After the sound of tires squealing subsided and they were back on the right side of the road - rather than the left, Murdock swatted Face with his blue hat. "B.A. would've killed us all for that! Pay attention, _will ya?_"

The long silence that followed their close-call lasted all the way to their destination. Murdock looked up from the map, then pointed. "Hey, turn right up here."

"Boy, that took long enough," Face commented as he pulled into the driveway, cut the engine, then stretched his arms. "I had no idea this place was all the way out here."

"That's because the last time we were flying, remember?" Murdock shrugged, then looked behind him and smiled at the sight - she was now sound asleep, head resting against the sliding door.

"Hey, A.J.," he called out to her, "_wakey, wakey!_"

Face's voice drifted from the driver's seat. "We're home."

"Already?" She cracked one eye open and groaned, knowing she hadn't meant to nod off, but the consecutive days of hard labor had begun to take its toll. "Didn't we just leave?"

"Yeah, only an hour ago!" Face snorted in playful retort.

Murdock hopped out of the van and pulled the sliding door open. "Come on, time to put the tray tables in their upright and locked position. You're home!"

Sunlight immediately flooded her vision as she stepped out of the van. "I just hope things are still in one piece after what happened." After a quick rub of the eyes to clear them, she looked up and found herself in the last place she'd ever expected to be.

* * *

"I figured you would be back out here. So how was the game?"

"Bears lost again." B.A. grumbled as looked up to meet Hannibal's gaze, then turned back to tighten the bolt with a last click of the wrench. "Nothing else to do, figured I might as well get the other engine finished up today. You getting tired of all this repair stuff yet, Hannibal?"

"Nah, not really," Hannibal answered, while resisting a desire to pick up a nearby welding gun. "I half expected Face to be the one to fold first."

"Yeah, Faceman never did like getting his hands dirty." B.A. chuckled.

"He's made up for it in supply though. In fact, it's coming along nicely if I do say so myself," Hannibal commented, noticing the garage bay piling up with parts and deliveries by the day.

B.A. nodded. "We should be done in a few more days, as long as Murdock gets all his work done. If I catch him talking to himself instead of working again, he's gonna get it."

Hannibal snickered and a few moments of silence passed. "You know, I didn't know if she was going to last after that first day." It was an audible thought more than anything, one that really didn't require an answer.

Looking up for a brief second, B.A. shrugged, then returned to his work. "She works hard and knows what she's doing too."

"Yeah, she does, doesn't she?" Hannibal smiled at the thought. "She's committed to finishing, you've gotta give her credit." After a pat on his shoulder, he turned and headed back to the house.

B.A. called after him, "Murdock should be the one committed again. It was his crazy idea that got us all out here in the first place."

Hannibal chuckled and turned to head back to the house, ready to enjoy some much-needed quiet time and the sound of his footsteps soon faded away.

A smile appeared on his face as B.A. turned his attention back to the engine in his hands. What he hadn't told Hannibal was that he'd actually been enjoying every minute of it.

* * *

"Why did you bring me _here_?" she asked them, obviously upset.

Confused, Face held up a piece of paper and read aloud. "Let's see here, Parker residence; Eighteen Lady-Mary Drive, smack dab in the middle of nowhere, Maryland." He turned the information her way for her to read for herself.

"Where did you get that?"

"Stockwell's database," Face smugly answered. "Okay, now I'm confused. This is your home, isn't it? I mean, it's not the nicest house on the block but..."

There were no buts about it, the acres of land in which they stood upon showed remnants of what used to be a bright green lawn and a neglected house weathering away by time's passing.

"The airfield just down the road has living quarters there." She pointed down the runway then gestured to the house. "This is the house I grew up in. Well, I guess _technically_ it's mine, but... " she trailed off, shaking her head. "I don't live here anymore."

"Oh." Face folded the paper and stuffed it into his pocket. This was not going as planned. "I guess that explains things."

Murdock pointed to the house with a thumb in sudden realization. "So, you haven't been here since...?"

She shook her head. "No, I didn't want to come back here knowing he died in there... all alone."

There was a long pause of silence, then Murdock looked at the house, then back at her. "What about now? Sure you don't want to go in just for a minute, since we're here and all?"

"In there?" She dismissed the thought with a shake of her head. "No way, why would I want to do that?"

"Because it looks like it was a nice place." He kicked a few gravel stones, the optimism in his voice never wavered. "Maybe it might not be so bad now, you know?"

Her fiery look of disbelief shot his way. "What's bad is knowing that if I'd been here instead of a thousand miles away, I could've saved him."

"You don't know that." Murdock pursed his lips as his heart sank. She hadn't looked at him like that since they'd first met. "Don't think that way, it could've happened whether you were here or not. "

"Then at least I could've told him I loved him, or good-bye, anything but a phone call." She headed back to the the van and through the sound of gravel crunching beneath her feet, she heard Face's persuasive voice call out after her.

"Hey, I thought you didn't walk away from things so easily, hmm?"

She stopped, then turned around in surprise. "Wait a minute, you were listening in?"

They both shrugged in unison, knowing that question didn't even need answered.

"At this point, I'm not even surprised." After a moment of thought, she made her way back over to them. "Alright - sorry I reacted like that. I just thought it would be easier if I forgot about this place."

"You don't have to forget it. You just need to let go and move on." Murdock held his hand out to her, then gestured to the front door. "We can help you do this now, if you want."

She stared at his hand, but didn't take it. "How is going in there going to help me? My whole world crashed the day he died. Do you guys have any idea what that feels like?"

Murdock could only stare back in silence. Five years old. Too young to remember much, those memories simply buried by the passage of time.

Face, on the other hand, pressed his lips together. He knew it all too well, still fresh in his mind. "I do. My father died last year too."

"I didn't know that. I'm really sorry." Her anger quickly subsided at his revelation. "How did you deal with it?"

"I guess it's just knowing that I'm still here. _I'm_ still alive." Face covered his grief with a well-timed shrug, then looked at Murdock and they shared a knowing glance.

"A.J.," Murdock began, slinging his arm around Face's shoulder. "Sometimes things happen when you least expect them. You just have to accept the cards you're dealt with and play the best you can with what you've got." Her look of surprise and question shot his way and he solemnly added, "My mother, I was five."

"I'm so sorry. To the both of you." She stared up at the house in thought. "Okay, what_ if_ I decide to go back in there? We're locked out and I don't have the key with me," she sighed with relief and gestured to the van.

Murdock nudged Face's side and the two men exchanged another knowing glance.

"Ah," Face reached into the confines of his sport jacket. He offered a casual smile while retrieving his prized tools. After unzipping the small black case, he held up a lock pick.

_"We don't need one."_


	7. Chapter 7 - Home's Where the Heart Aches

_**Chapter 7 - Home is Where the Heart Aches**_

* * *

Dust.

It was everywhere. Over a year's worth of the fine dirt layered the inside of the abandoned house. On a nearby coffee table, a cup sat with remnants long since evaporated into a dark circular stain. A newspaper lay next to it and Murdock caught a glimpse of the date as he walked by.

_January tenth, nineteen eighty-six_

Then he sneezed.

Face returned his lock picking tools to the inside pocket of his jacket, then looked around. "It's cozy, if anything," he commented, then stopped at the fireplace and lingered for a few moments. Taking note of the photographs resting on the mantle, he reached out and picked out the largest one. He rubbed his sleeve against the glass, revealing a man in full dress Air Force blues. Curious, he peered closer at the rank on the uniform.

"Your dad was a general?" He turned the picture towards her and she nodded in reply.

Murdock suddenly blurted out from behind them, "Wait a minute, I recognize who that is." As he snapped his fingers, he tried to recall the now familiar face. "That's... that's _'Wild Ace'!"_ As the facts came together in sudden realization, he stared at her in astonishment. "Wait, wait, wait... you mean to tell me that _your_ dad, the one you've been talking about this entire time, is _the_ 'Wild Ace' Allen Parker?"

She winced. Hearing that nickname again was a tough blow, adding to the grief that had resurfaced the moment she'd passed through the door.

"Allen Parker..." Face thought about the name for a moment, then asked, "Wasn't he the one in those Korean war stories that Hannibal used to tell us about?"

Murdock nodded. "The one and same, Battle of _Pusan Perimeter_ if memory serves. Boy, those stories were epic. He was one of the head honchos over at Langley Air Force Base for a long time." He recalled the conversation with her that first night and couldn't believe he hadn't caught the connection then. Of course, the face in her picture hadn't been the clearest. "Do you know what your father _did?_"

"I - I know." She attempted to keep her voice from shaking. "I know. When I was little, Dad's old squadron buddies would come visit here a lot. A_ lot_ lot. They'd sit around the living room here, play cards and reminisce about the old days." She gestured to the empty couch and could almost hear the loud banter they'd once created so long ago.

"Ah, so that's where you learned it." Face smirked as he replaced the picture back on the mantle. "That reminds me, I have a few chips to win back tonight."

"You and me both," Murdock added with a halfhearted smile.

That particular thought relaxed her enough for a brief lighthearted chuckle. "They played until the sun came up sometimes. The stories that they would tell, about war and peace... and they're also the ones who started calling me A.J."

"_Started _calling you?" Face curiously asked.

"It stands for Ace Junior," she explained, a half-smile appearing on her face. "It started more as a joke than anything when I was little, but the name stuck after awhile. Especially, well - later on." She picked up her own service photo and blew the dust off for them to see.

Murdock exchanged glances with Face, then the dust hit as hard as the revealing news. "Uh - a_h-choo! _I'm gonna go give the rear a quick once over to make sure everything looks secure, okay?" He made a beeline for the back exit.

Face turned his attention back to the pictures and one in particular caught his eye. "She still around?" he asked, pointing to the woman in a wedding dress standing next to her father.

She shook her head. "I have no memory of her at all. It was just me and dad for as long as I can remember. He got this look on his face if I asked about her..." Turning her attention away from the pictures, she curiously asked him, "Were you close with your dad too?"

"Uh," Face froze at the question, then shook his head. "To tell you the truth, I was raised in an orphanage. I didn't even know who my father was until after he died."

"Oh, so you didn't get to say goodbye either?" Her tone was sincere as she stated the obvious.

"No." Face felt himself tense as the grief he had learned to suppress seeped through his answer. "You want to know something else? His name was A.J. too."

Their eyes connected, each seeing the heartbreak in the other. "I guess we have something in common after all," she told him, then smiled.

Face thought the exact same thing, because he suddenly offered a casual arm around her shoulders, then pulled her into a hug. He instinctively tilted his chin down to catch a whiff of her hair and found it invigorating and distracting, much to his relief.

But this wasn't the right time or place for such frivolity. He lifted his head; hoping the lack of scent would help snap him out of it and suddenly found Murdock, clutching a handkerchief and questioning allergy-red eyes boring into him. The looks that exchanged between them were more than adequate to have a conversation.

They'd had enough practice though the years, of course.

_What are you doing, Face? I was only gone two minutes tops - really?!_

_Uh-oh, busted. Hey, wait a second. I'm totally innocent this time. See my hands? Look!_

She pulled away when she felt Face's hands lift from her back, and quickly wiped her eyes with a sleeve. "Hey, you're right, Face. All this time, I never really accepted that he was gone. I've been deluding myself into thinking that his bird was somehow him instead." She sighed, embarrassed at the thought. "Murdock called it the 'Ghost in the Machine' and he was right. I'm such a fool."

"No, you're not," Murdock called out to her. "Because I'm the fool around here, remember? B.A. says so."

She smiled at them both. "Guess I had a few more loose ends to tie up than I thought. Thank you for convincing me to do this... I couldn't have done it without you guys."

"You're welcome, kid." Face smiled back. "Hey, I'm going to go phone Hannibal from the van, okay?" As he passed by Murdock, he met his gaze and winked. "You know how he gets if we don't check-in regularly." Then he quickly bolted towards the door, eager for some fresh air.

She watched the front door close behind him, then stared at Murdock, who was pre-occupied with blowing his nose. She then glanced at the staircase and found a newfound desire to venture forward. She made her way to the top, then down the hallway and her footsteps - and eventually his - creaking on the hardwood floors came to an abrupt halt.

It was like a dream, or perhaps the time-travel wish she'd asked for back in Stockwell's office. Any minute now she'd wake up in this very room; in her own bed; the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen; the sound of a newspaper crinkling from pages turning. The present would simply fade into oblivion.

It didn't of course. Taking a deep breath, she walked into her room and childhood memories came flooding back. She quickly noticed a stuffed toy bear on the edge of the bed. She picked it up, then opened the tag.

_Welcome back, Junior. Seeing you fly with your own wings has made my real dream come true. Touch the stars. Love, Dad_

She sank onto to the bed, bit her wavering lip and looked up to keep the tears from spilling over.

_Not this time, Dad. I'm so sorry._

Murdock looked up too, highly amused at the array of pictures - NASA, military, and civilian aircraft plastered like wallpaper. "I see you decided to forgo the teen magazine cutouts for something a lot more interesting." He stood there pointing at the ceiling, but when she didn't answer, the grin fell from his face. "Hey, how're you holding up there?"

"Like a feather-light in a hurricane."

"Well," he began, sitting down next to her. "Then just keep the wind at your back to ride it out and you'll pull through just fine." He couldn't help but nudge her and add with a smirk, _"Ace."_

She scoffed at his teasing and a spark of amusement returned in her eyes. "Thanks."

"You're welco- _ah-choo!_"

"_Hey, guys!_" Face called out from the bottom of the stairs. _"Hannibal wants us back by dark, so if you still wanted to head over to the airfield, now's the time. We done here?"_

"C'mon, let's get you out of here, Captain." She stood up, set the stuffed animal back on the bed, then raised her chin in a surge of confidence as she called back loud enough for Face to hear, "Yeah, I'm done here... for _now._"

* * *

This time there were no surprises. She rode shotgun and kept a constant visual the entire way, exactly one mile down the familiar red clay dirt road. As they pulled into the airfield and up to the hangar, it was like a breath of fresh air.

Home.

After a quick exit of the van, she headed to the empty landing pad first and caught sight of the blackened grass around the landing platform. It was an almost painful reminder of that fateful day as she knelt down and touched the scorched earth, trying desperately to recall more than just the explosion that came seemingly out of nowhere. She stared back at them both, her eyes shown full of questions.

"Uh, we don't have a lot of time here, A.J." Face insisted, then exchanged a knowing glance with Murdock, who could only stare back with his own troubled expression. He wasn't particularly happy remembering that day either.

She rose to her feet and the three began the walk towards the hangar. Finding it locked up tight, a lone key in her pocket let them in without delay. On entering, she sighed in relief when a quick visual of the main area revealed nothing was disturbed, and checked in the private quarters hidden in the far corner showed everything in its exact place as well - including her Walkman, which she quickly grabbed to take back with her.

Face looked around and curiously asked, "Do you work here alone?"

"You mean, _'do I fly solo?'_" she teased, tucking the headphones under the collar of her jumpsuit.

"Yeah, yeah," he rolled his eyes, then glared at Murdock who was laughing behind them.

"Besides my dad, I'm the only pilot who flies clients here, but I'm not alone." She gestured to the hangar. "Dad's squadron buddies have helped out here since the very beginning. We're FAA certified and she gets her regular inspections and maintenance. We tend to have a regular list of clients for aerial tours, photographers, jumpers and those who are looking to rack up training hours." She headed to the small desk, adding, "Speaking of, I'm sure my absence has not gone unnoticed."

By the amount of time it took to rewind the answering machine, it was clear.

_"Hey, Junior. It's Dave. I dropped by this evening, __saw you were still gone and everything's locked up, so I'm guessing you're still up there. Hey, call me when you get this, okay?"_

"Boyfriend?" Face curiously asked, then watched Murdock's face fall at the thought.

"_Dave?_" She chuckled at the thought. "No, he runs the fuel truck out of Bay Bridge."

_"Yo, it's Dave again. Came by to refuel the tank again tonight but you're still at the top and everything's still closed. Hey, where are you? I'm starting to worry about ya, kid. Call me!_"

She quickly fast-forwarded through the rest of the messages, mostly concerned about past appointments being missed, until the last message.

_"Junior! Just... just call me when you get this message, all right? It's been days, tanks are full, your bird is still gone and I still haven't heard anything. The police say they haven't found any sign of you or your chopper and now they're starting to act like you don't even exist. Dammit, Junior! I just got over your Daddy and now... how many times have I told you to get some help over there and not to keep going up alone? I don't care how good you -"_

She reached out and abruptly hit the switch and the concerned voice ceased.

"I guess I have some calls to make."

"Just remember to leave us out of it," Face reminded her. "We don't exist, remember?"

"Don't worry," she reassured him. "I'll just tell him I took a hard landing and she's at the repair shop down in Miami. Close enough, right?"

* * *

As the van sped down the long causeway back to Langley, the sun's reflection bounced off the shimmering waters of Chesapeake Bay beneath them. Noticing it was unusually quiet, aside from the radio playing in the background, Face glanced to his right and caught a glimpse of Murdock. He was continuously rubbing his chin, deep in thought.

He adjusted the rear-view mirror just enough to see their passenger leaned against the van door, her head resting against the shoulder strap, Walkman in her ears.

"Surprise, surprise, look who fell asleep again," he chuckled.

Murdock turned to look at her briefly. "Well, who could blame her? It's been a rough day."

"Been a rough _week._" Face hissed, then heaved a sigh. "Boy, of all the people to steal a chopper from, Murdock. Just wait until Hannibal hears about all this. Can you imagine the look on his face when we tell him who her father is?"

Murdock shrugged, knowing he had other things on his mind than the look on Hannibal's face. Revisiting the airfield had the events of the past week constantly looping through his head. It was supposed to be exactly like any other time; slip into the cockpit unnoticed, start 'er up and ascend without incident. He hadn't expected the loud bang of her fist pounding the cockpit windshield, or her face pressed up against it as she spoke the very first words to him.

Yelled actually.

_"__A__re you crazy? __What are you doing in there? __Get the hell out of my bird right now or so help me I'll -"_

The image of her so infuriated didn't bother him, that was understandable. But questioning his sanity was tough to swallow. He didn't mind it so much from B.A.; it was years of habit that would never be broken...

_"Are you crazy?"_

He was just about to tell her that he _wasn't_ crazy, with documented proof and all, but then the deafening sound of their enemies aerial fire rattled the area and the explosion beside them threw her against the chopper's hull hard enough to -

"So, when are you going to tell her?"

"What, that I'm really not crazy anymore?" he blurted out, then quickly looked behind him to see if his outburst had disturbed her. To his relief, she only stirred briefly.

"_No,_ tell her that you're... _interested._" Face looked at him with an awkward glance. "Right? Uh, anything you want to talk about there?"

"No, and just ignore that." Murdock waved a dismissive hand, obviously displeased and fiddled with the radio dial to busy himself.

"C'mon, Murdock." Face sighed. "Ever since we came back from this last mission, you've been acting so…" he paused, searching for the right word, "_normal._ It doesn't take a genius to see why."

"Define normal, Face." Murdock shook his head. "Look, even if I had a chance, I don't know if I can ever tell her about..." he trailed off and pursed his lips. He didn't even like to say it anymore. "_Before._"

"What, the V.A.? Why?"

"Because it's not something that comes up in casual conversation, that's why. What if she doesn't understand?"

"Somehow, I doubt that." Face eyed Murdock for a moment. "Remember what happened at _Villa Cucina_ last year?"

Murdock nodded, knowing it had been one of the most frightening moments of his Langley life, so far.

"I had a few revelations that day. I knew it was time for me to put all the yesterdays behind me and look around at what's most important. That's Hannibal, B.A., you, and the hope that Stockwell really does keep his word about our pardons so we can finally have the lives we've been waiting for. I'm ready for that, Murdock - I know you are too."

"Aw, Face," Murdock's eyes began to tear up, and not because of any dust this time.

"So, I'm going to give you a bit of advice." Face looked at him knowingly, then nodded towards the backseat. "Don't let this one fly away, okay?"

Murdock nodded. Face always had a way of knowing what to say to make him feel better. He finally quit fiddling with the radio and eased back into the seat, wondering if he really could put his past behind him for good...

_Well, Mister I'm not in a hurry, a__nd I don't want to be like you..._  
_All I want from tomorrow, i__s to get it better than today._

_Step by step, one by one, higher and higher_  
_Step by step, rung by rung, c__limbing Jacob's ladder..._

_~Huey Lewis and the News '87_

* * *

Returning to Langley, the three were met by the inquisitive eyes of Hannibal and the accusing eyes of B.A. - and as B.A. performed a thorough walk-around of his van, Face held up his hands defensively and said, "It's fine, B.A., not a scratch."

"Relax, big guy." Murdock offered a reassuring pat on his shoulder. "The van shall live to drive another day."

"Good." B.A. finally did relax, after his own inspection confirmed no damage. "By the way, those new gauges came in while you guys were gone."

"They did?" A.J.'s eyes lit up through mid-stretch. "See you guys later. You know where I'll be." Wasting no time, she headed out the door and back to the garage bay.

Hannibal watched her walk away, waiting until she was out of earshot. "You're _late_, guys," he scolded, before giving them his 'you should know better' look.

"Never mind that, Colonel - do you know where we just were?" Murdock quickly changed the subject, eager to share the news. "How's the house of 'Wild Ace' Allen Parker sound - remember _Pusan Perimeter_?"

B.A.'s nose bunched up in thought. "You mean that guy in those stories Hannibal used to jabber on about?"

"Yep, _that's_ the one." Face jerked his thumb towards the door. "She's his kid - do you believe that, Hannibal?"

They looked over at Hannibal, whose response was lackluster at best; and it soon became clear why.

Bewildered at his reaction, Murdock asked, "You knew who she was this whole time, didn't you, Colonel?"

"First day!" Hannibal grinned through his cigar, enjoying the fact he could still take them by surprise now and then. "Nice, huh?"

* * *

The crickets chirped in full symphony and the brilliant pinpoint of twinkling lights above were breathtaking. They had a calming effect, just the thing needed to pacify one's soul. Perched on the roof of the vehicle bay, she was immersed in her newest discovery. Up here she could think about whatever came to mind. Her father, her chopper, the past, the present…

…_the future._

"Hey, A.J.!" a voice called out from down below. "Yo, where you at, you go AWOL?"

She quickly turned to peer down the hatch she had climbed up through and called back, "No, I'm right here."

He immediately climbed the ladder and as soon as his blue cap poked out of the hatch, he looked at her curiously. "Whatcha doing all the way up here? You just had to find _some_ way of getting off the ground, huh?"

She pointed upwards. "And enjoying the view."

He looked up, his hands still gripping the ladder rungs. _"Whoa." _Catching an eyeful of the starlit heavens above, it intrigued him enough to climb the rest of the way up and plop down beside her. "Looks like you found a great spot. Better than the balcony's view, that's for sure."

"Perfect night for a hop." She sighed, eyes still fixed upwards. "Oh well, they'll be others." She finally pulled her attention from the sky and looked at him. "Did you need me for something?"

"Oh yeah." He pinched the bridge of his nose in thought, remembering he _had_ come up here for something other than sightseeing. He then jerked a thumb towards the house. "Uh, the big guy says to get your tail in the kitchen and try one of his special 'B.A. Burgers'. Believe me, if you value your intestines, you might wanna steer clear."

After a shared moment of laughter, she answered, "Thanks, maybe later." The cool nighttime wind had begun to pick up and she shivered. "I remember on a night just like this, Dad and I were up there for a photo hop. I was on one of my first solos. She was a seventy-one Bell jet, great bird." She realized she was rambling. "Sorry, anyway we're up there and suddenly, I hear this loud _snap_ and the engines just completely stalled out mid-flight."

His eyes widened, intrigued. "Bearings or faulty TT?"

There was nothing but relief in her eyes as she said, "I am so glad you know what I'm talking about. The strap."

"Mm-hmm, common in Bell's," he said matter-of-factly.

"So, we're dropping altitude fast and I just... froze up. But then Dad jumps in from the back and gets her rotors turning counter-wise just in time to land us soft."

"Wow, close call, huh?"

"Yeah, it was my first taste of the what-if's, but it didn't stop me from going up again. I was never afraid after that night, knowing what to do." She looked over at him, eyes full of wonder. "Hey, what about you?"

Surprised at the unexpected question, he answered, "Sure, I went down a few times."

"Really?" Her expression grew serious. "In Vietnam?"

He nodded. "Yeah, there - and on… other occasions. Always managed to walk away though - I have this little trick where I cross my fingers just before the hit."

A smile played at her lips. "So were they crossed when you crashed _mine?_"

He smiled, then held up his crossed fingers in reply.

"Well... thanks for that." She grinned, then crossed her fingers back at him.

"Hey, I hope you aren't mad at me for this, but..." He reached into his half-zippered jacket and pulled out the lone stuffed animal; the same one she'd left on her bed. He offered it to her, saying, "Here. I know today was pretty rough, thought you might like to hold onto this as a reminder while you're away. Now seems like a good time as any."

She stared at it for a moment. "Thanks," she whispered, then held it to her chest.

Relieved, he looked up to the heavens just in time to catch a glimpse of a meteor hitting the atmosphere. As it briefly streaked across the sky, it left a trail then disappeared out of sight. He looked over at her, wondering if she'd seen it too. The warm smile spreading across her face and gentle chuckle answered all doubt.

_Don't let this one fly away._

Face's voice echoed in his head and he felt his insides begin to tumble. His mouth started moving before his brain could stop it. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have a net, would you?"

"A _net?_" Her smile quickly vanished as she looked back at him with a puzzled look. "What for?"

Feeling the heat rise from under the collar of his jacket, he nervously grabbed at the back of his neck. "All these butterflies flying around in my stomach. I was kinda hoping to catch them, ya know?"

She stared at him in confusion for a moment, then finally realized what he was referring to. Before she had the chance to say another word, he suddenly leaned over and pressed his lips against hers.


	8. Chapter 8 - Startups and Slowdowns

_**Chapter 8 - Start-ups and Slowdowns**_

* * *

_Four days later..._

"Okay, kid, last one." While clenching his teeth around his cigar, Hannibal fit the socket over the bolt's head. "Make sure it's straight now."

"Mm hm." A.J. steadied the last piece of sheet metal over the chopper's tail rotor. "Got it."

"You sure?" He teasingly warned, "If it's crooked, we're gonna have to start all over!"

"Hannibal!" Her exasperated tone preceded her widening eyes, which were shielded by a pair of safety goggles. "Come on, I got it."

"All right, hold still now." He squeezed the air gun's trigger until the socket seized. One by one, the rest of the bolts were inserted and the tightness was double checked.

She let go of the sheet metal, now secure, and sighed with relief.

"Nice job, kid." He wiped his brow, then raised his hand for a high five.

She slapped his hand and felt the muscle in her bicep tense in warning. "I'm so glad that's finally done!" After a quick stretch, she muttered, "I didn't think I could take any more of that."

Giving no time for rest, Hannibal plunked a box into her empty arms. "Here you go, get to it." A familiar sense of smugness began to grow. He never showed mercy when hard work was required, especially not to those he knew had potential.

After checking the box's label, marked _'rivets'_, she held back a groan and began to prepare for the last phase of hull assembly.

"Hey, outta the way!" B.A. called out. "Comin' through there."

They quickly stepped aside as B.A. neared with the welding gun. A bright spark traced down the sheet metal edges of the tail rotor, sealing them tight.

A few paces away, Face leaned over, closely inspecting the hull with a pair of high-tech goggles. "Hey Hannibal," He looked their way, and the equipment on his head was lit up like a prop from a goofy sci-fi flick. "I don't see any deformities. I think we got it." He smirked, in awe of the technology. "Man, it's too bad the comic books didn't have these as prizes instead of those lousy paper ones."

"Um, Face." She apprehensively eyed the specs. "That thing doesn't see through clothing too, does it?"

Face scanned down, back up again, then pearly white teeth showed in a full-on grin.

"Face!" She crossed her hands over her chest and blushed furiously. "You'd better be joking!"

"I'll never tell." He turned back to the hull; a smug grin still plastered on his face.

Four guys, one girl; it was bound to happen sooner or later. She pointed to the cockpit and told Hannibal, "I think I'm going to go hide in there until Face is done with that thing."

Hannibal snickered.

While reaching for the cockpit door, a hint of excitement beginning to grow. Normally, it was due to a case of pre-flight anticipation, but this time it was for a completely different reason.

"Afternoon, Captain," she told him as she climbed in. "Hannibal and I just got the last of the hull mounted and…" she trailed off, distracted by the sight before her.

"Well, what do you think?"

Settling in the pilot's seat, she slowly exhaled in surprise. "Wow... she looks brand new!" Her hand meticulously ran over the upgraded gauges and dials. "Fuel, rotary control, oil press… wait -" She pointed to the high-tech display screen that hadn't been there prior. "Where did _this_ come from?"

"I was wondering when you were going to notice."

"I don't believe it." Amazed, she leaned over for a closer look. "I thought GPS systems were strictly for military units only and weren't available for the commercial lines yet."

"Mm, they aren't."

"So, how did you -"

"Better not to ask," he interrupted, shaking his head. "Let's just say we have connections. The important thing is now you don't have to worry about getting lost on your way home."

"It isn't me getting lost that I'm worried about." She gave him a sly look as she gestured to the cockpit. "It's a certain someone trying to fly off with her again."

"Well, then - I have a solution for that too." He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a black box and held it out to her. "Here."

She eyed the box and questioningly raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to get down on one knee first?"

"Huh? _Oh._" He scoffed at her teasing, then opened the box. "It's a homing transmitter, just in case you're ever separated from her again. You can thank B.A. for that one."

She picked up the device, inspected it, then pinned it on her jumpsuit. "Oh, wow. Yeah, I'll do that." After a sharp exhale in astonishment, she asked, "You thought of everything, didn't you?"

He grinned.

"You know," her expression grew serious as she ran her thumb across the transmitter pin shaped in a pair of wings. "The first time I saw you, I was convinced you were some hotshot maverick who didn't care about what happened to me, or my bird. Thanks for proving me wrong."

"You're welcome," he responded softly, then reached out to give her cheek a gentle brush, knowing they hadn't had any moments alone since the rooftop.

_"Hey guys!"_

Murdock's hand shot to the switches above his head just as Hannibal's face peered through the cockpit windshield. "It's five and we're heading back - you coming?"

"_Yessir,_ Colonel," Murdock's reply was rushed. "We're just going through some last-minute start-up procedures first. We'll be along in a few."

Hannibal nodded just before disappearing out of sight. He let go of the switches, but it just didn't feel right picking up where he'd left off. Her cheek was now a few shades redder anyways.

"Well, I can't let Hannibal think I'm a liar here." He heard the guilt in his own voice. "So, uh, why don't you show me your start-up procedure?"

It was automatic. This time it was her hands that flew overhead, and switches were pretended to be flipped. "Fuel, on. Magneto, off. Throttle, open," she murmured to herself before tapping the floor pedal three times. "Avionics, on. Gauge check, green. Hydraulics, off." Her hand went to the collective. "Throttle, closed. Warm-up commencing and…" her hand froze on the collective in a final move, as if she were ready to take off that very moment.

Murdock honest-to-God wished they could've - and as by the look on her face, he knew she felt the same her lips pursed in anticipation.

"Up, up and away. Oh man, I can't wait to get her back up there."

He chuckled, enthused by her anticipation. "That's because to most people, the sky is the limit. But to those who love to fly, the sky is home."

"Thank you, _Mr. Anonymous._"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. Not about to let this rare moment of privacy pass them by, he began leaning her way intently - eyes closed, heart racing...

"Wait," she blurted out and held her hand to his chest to stop him. When he drew back in surprise, she gestured to the cockpit, explaining, "Not here... please, I'm sorry, I - I just can't..."

"It's all right," he interrupted, his voice a low rasp. "I understand."

She reached out and rested her hand atop of his, and a touch of panic followed. Or was it excitement? "I have to tell you, I'm a little bit... scared."

He interlaced his fingers with hers. "Of what, _me?_"

"No, it's just..." She trailed off, struggling to find the right words to explain. "It's just been a long time since I've tried to sit co-pilot with someone."

"I really find that hard to believe," he told her, his expression mirroring his opinion.

"Hey, I can't say I haven't tried." She shrugged nonchalantly. "And when I do, it usually winds up with me talking aerodynamics or weather or some other topic they don't understand and they're giving me this… look." Glancing his way, she saw his blank expression. "Yeah, that one."

"Again, I just find all this hard to believe! Hey, is this better?" He immediately morphed his look of disbelief into a playful smirk, then leaned in closer, his eyes softening. "Ace, I've had some time to think about this, and I'd like to ask you out on a date."

"Now?" She gestured to herself and the end-of-day filth covering her.

"No, not _now_." He chuckled at the thought. "In two days."

She nodded, pondering the thought. "Okay... but what's in two days?"

"Well, that's when she'll be ready for her test flight and we're going up there, you and me, because I wanna see that wild blue yonder welcome you home and I ain't gonna miss it for the world!"

She grinned at the thought. "That sounds like an okay plan to me."

"Well, then..." His own grin appeared, almost as wide as the rotor blades atop the bird they sat in. "I love it when a plan comes together!"

_I've always wanted to say that. Sorry, Hannibal!_

* * *

Soaring aboard his private plane at an altitude of ten thousand feet, Stockwell leaned far back in his office chair. His fingers drummed his desk he listened to the buzz of the dot-matrix printer actively scanning across the paper back and forth. Nearby, Carla waited in anticipation, then tore the freshly printed paper away and handed it to him.

He adjusted the tinted glasses and then held the paper up to read.

_***ATTN: GEN. HUNT STOCKWELL***_

_Informing you that OPERATION: FOXTROT DELTA still on-going. Upon thorough investigation of the data disk retrieved, data reports have found evidence of renegade U.S. militants approximately 125 miles off the E coast of Ocean City, MD. Initial reports of early missile silo construction have been confirmed. Satellite images and additional information are en route at this time._

_*** Infiltrate and destroy within the next 48 hours. ***_

"Shall I contact Langley via Blue Line?" Carla immediately picked up the phone, already knowing the answer.

"Affirmative," Stockwell responded. "And prepare for immediate landing. Mission status is now active. Have Ables Four, Six, and Ten transfer the necessary supplies for Operation Foxtrot Delta, and have Empresses nine through twelve convene at the airport at six A.M tomorrow."

"Understood," Carla responded, then immediately turned to follow her orders.

Stockwell glanced at the sky outside, watching the last light of dusk slowly fade away. Feeling a bit smug, he smiled, knowing the moment he'd been waiting for had arrived. It was time to get his team back into action.

* * *

It was a normal morning routine by now. Seven o'clock on the dot, then a knock at the door, followed by Hannibal's call of _'Up and at 'em, Parker. Your bird awaits!'_

However, on this particular morning her head was buried deep in the pillow, immersed in vivid dreams of flight and fantasy. She awoke and immediately realized it had been unprovoked. Confused, her eyes immediately went to the clock.

"Oh-_niner_ \- what the...?"

She hopped out of bed, quickly dressed, and opened her door. The first thing she noticed was it was quiet. No Ables lurking about, no smell of breakfast cooking, no familiar sounds that the house was even inhabited.

"Guys?" she called out, and knocked on each of the guy's bedroom doors, hoping to find some sign of anything. But there was no answer. "Anyone home?"

She headed down the stairs and not surprising, found the kitchen empty as well. She booked out the back door and the very instant the sliding glass door closed behind her, she broke into a sprint, darting across the back field. As she reached for the handle of the vehicle bay's door, she saw the note taped to the door.

_Knew you'd check here first. Sorry kid, had to leave. You know what to do. Back later. ~Hannibal_

She stared at the paper, confused, but knowing it was pointless questioning or even wondering where everyone was. Folding the note away in her pocket, she pulled open the bay door. The first thing she noticed was B.A.'s van was gone.

_"Ms. Parker."_

She turned around to find the same Able that had kept watch at her door that first night. "So there's someone here after all. Where _is_ everyone?"

"That's not your business." The tone in his voice indicated he wasn't in the mood for small talk. "I've been instructed by the General to make sure you go on about yours without any further questions. As you were."

She glared, then checked her watch. Already two hours behind schedule and four men down. Time was running out, and fast. Looking up at the near-completed bird, she knew there wasn't much left to do now to technically be flight ready - a few minor calibrations, a thorough wiring check and a full once over. The real work had been completed in the week prior; any work that remained she could handle on her own.

Keep working was Hannibal's request. She would do just that.

* * *

The tension hung thick in the air as it did before every mission briefing.

Like so many times before, Carla began with a flip of the view screen. "The data disk you brought back last week has proved to be very helpful, gentlemen. It contained information about a missile silo that is being built on a remote island approximately a hundred and twenty-five miles off the Maryland coast. Our sources say it's still in the early construction phase, so there isn't a code red threat currently. Your mission is to infiltrate the base, find whatever information you can and destroy it if possible."

"Sounds easy enough," Face commented sarcastically, watching the images of the islands and base flicker between the screens.

"Wait a minute," Hannibal thoughtfully chewed on his cigar. "Isn't this the F.B.I.'s jurisdiction? Why can't they take care of this?"

"The F.B.I. refuses to acknowledge this case because of the people involved." Stockwell pursed his lips. "When we became aware of who was behind all this, they wanted the best covert team out there to take care of things. Which is you, gentlemen."

"So, who's involved in all of this nonsense?" B.A. asked.

"A gentleman by the name of Dickenson - formerly known as Corporal Ronald Dickenson. I'm sure you all have heard of him."

"Dickenson?" Hannibal gave a look of surprise, hearing the name. "As in the notorious 'Dickenson Court Martial'?"

Stockwell nodded. "Yes, one and the same."

Face groaned, remembering the newspaper article he had read many years ago. "I remember that story, and Dickenson's no gentleman. The guy is certifiably insane. One day he just decided the U.S. was on the wrong side of things, shot up his entire platoon and killed his commanding officer." He shuddered to think they would be coming within a hundred miles of this guy.

"Yeah, and didn't he escape the country before he was convicted?" Murdock asked. "Even though the military still denies it?"

Hannibal nodded and folded his arms across his chest. "With the help of his fellow converts. What a slime ball." He felt his anger rising at the thought of such treachery.

"Which is why you see the F.B.I. denies this report."

"I'd love to get my hands on that guy," B.A. muttered, pounding his fists together in emphasis.

Stockwell opened the file in his hands and more paperwork exchanged hands. "We have satellite pictures of these supplies and high grade weapons being airlifted to the island."

B.A. glanced at the pictures of aircraft and parachuting supplies and became defensive almost immediately. "I'm not going to fly, you can count on that!" He snapped to attention, his eyes darting back and forth, and wondered what they were planning to do to render him unconscious yet again.

_Not this time. Those fools better keep their tranquilizer guns away from me._

"Calm down, Sergeant." Stockwell pointed to the aerial view of the base. "As you can see, there are no landing strips where you're heading."

"What about dropping in?" Murdock suggested, giving a sly look B.A.'s way. "Like those supplies there?"

"No!" B.A. immediately objected again. "You guys push me out of a plane again and I swear I'll -"

"You can leave the parachutes at home, gentlemen." Stockwell interrupted, holding his hand up for silence. "You will not be 'dropping in' anywhere. There's too great of a risk with radar detection and Dickenson is known for being one step ahead with his technology."

"So, we're going by boat?" B.A. looked up with hopeful eyes. "You mean you guys are finally going to listen to me this time?"

After a confirming nod, Stockwell explained, "A boat will be necessary to carry the sensitive equipment you will be taking."

That news brought a curious glance from Face. "What kind of equipment?"

"C4 explosive, Lieutenant. To destroy the silo."

"Now I see why we're going by sea." Murdock cringed. "I wouldn't want to be within fifty feet of that stuff if we had to make a hard landing."

Hannibal found himself rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Well, now this is starting to sound like fun. When do we leave?" He found that he'd finally grown tired of the repair work in the bay and was actually looking forward to something with a little more action.

"Tomorrow morning. But first, I'm sending you over to the warehouse to retrieve the equipment you'll need. I'll see you all at the harbor at oh-six-hundred. Sharp." With his orders given, he turned around in his chair, "Dismissed."

With the mission briefing now over, they exited the plane; except Murdock, who hung back.

"General."

Stockwell turned back around in his chair and looked up. "Is there something else, Captain?"

"What about A.J.?"

"Hrmph," Stockwell pressed his lips together in annoyance. "Your deadline is approaching. How close are you to finishing your little side project?"

"Well, we would've finished probably tomorrow had we not been called out here."

He widened his eyes in surprise. He hadn't even considered the fact they might have finished. Perhaps, he might have just underestimated his team this time, and Parker as well.

"I'm moving up the deadline," he said flatly. "Her time has run out and she needs to leave, with or without her property."

"Hey, that's not fair and you know it," Murdock protested. "She's worked damn hard right alongside the rest of us since day one and it's not her fault we're getting called away on a mission like this. Give her the chance to finish on her own while we're gone. She deserves that, if anything."

_It's just one nuisance after another with you, isn't it Captain? Keep pushing my buttons and…_

Stockwell glared at him. "What she deserves is irrelevant in these circumstances." He waited, while Murdock refused to back down. "Fine. You can have it your way this time, but under no circumstances is she staying at the Langley house tonight. I will not have this mission jeopardized with any sort of frivolous distractions or breaches of security. Now," Stockwell pointed towards the door, "get her out of there and get prepared."

Murdock turned to leave, knowing this was one aircraft he would happily depart. As he turned the corner, he immediately bumped straight into Hannibal.

"Whoa, slow down there, Captain." Hannibal steadied him by his shoulders.

"Sorry, Colonel. Excuse me."

Motioning to the plane, Hannibal explained, "I was about to ask what he wanted to do about the kid, but I see you took the liberty to handle things."

"You overheard?"

"Yeah, and I'm sure she's hell bent on knowing why we weren't there today." Hannibal noticed the expression on Murdock's face and he could tell his mind was elsewhere. "Captain, I know I don't need to remind you about our missions being classified, do I? She can't know."

"No, no," Murdock's quick rush reply told him otherwise. "It's not my intention to disclose any details to her about our mission. I just want to be the one to tell we won't be here tomorrow to finish."

"Just remember your priorities right now, Captain. You gave her a head start, now it's time to let her go. She'll get it done." Hannibal reached out and let a gloved hand rest on Murdock's shoulder like he'd done so many times before. "Face, B.A. and I are heading to the warehouse now to supply-up. You go take care of things on your end and get her home. I'll see you tomorrow."

Their eyes met briefly, and an understanding nod was shared. As Murdock hurriedly passed through the plane's hatch and headed towards a waiting car, Hannibal called out to him.

"Will you give her a message from me?"

He stopped and turned his way once again. "Of course. Anything, Colonel."

"Tell her I'm sorry... but we'll be back."


	9. Chapter 9 - The Spirit of Saint Division

_**Chapter 9 - The Spirit of Saint Division**_

* * *

Time passed by quickly while solely concentrated on the task at hand. It was mindless, repetitive work; apply adhesive, insert rivet into recessed screw hole, punch with rivet gun. Repeat a million times.

Her hands were busy, but her mind was even busier. The lack of anyone else to converse with left her with only her own thoughts - which were becoming clearer as the day went on. With each rivet punch, it felt like a mental fog was lifting, revealing the start of an emotional healing she never knew was needed.

Completely enthralled, she didn't hear the vehicle pulling up outside or the approaching footsteps.

_"Hey there."_

Surprised to hear another voice, she sat up abruptly; forgetting for a moment that she was underneath over ten-thousand pounds of steel and a loud clang rang out.

"_Ow,_ geez!" She slid out from between the chopper's skids, rubbing her forehead. She looked up at him, relieved to finally see someone other than Ables. "Well, there you are!" She quickly rose to her feet, then glanced at her watch. Six-thirty. "I was beginning to think you guys gave up." She chuckled and brushed herself off, waiting patiently for his response, along with almost predictable smile.

Neither came, much to her dismay. His usual lightheartedness was gone, replaced by a cold distance she didn't understand. "What's wrong?"

"Come on." He motioned towards the door. "I have something I need to tell you."

"Now?" Her eyes turned to her bird, then back to him. "But the deadline is in a couple days and if I hear 'I told you so' from Stockwell-"

"_Please,_ A.J.," he insisted and held out his hand. "Just leave her for now."

Noticing the urgency in his voice, she took his hand and he led her outside to an awaiting car.

The very instant the car passed through the black gates of the Langley house, it was pedal to the metal. The wind whipped through the open windows as they sped along the winding country road and it threatened to tear the hat from his head, but he didn't care. His mind was racing, along with the vehicle at his control, as he tried to figure out exactly how to break the news.

She finally broke the silence. "Well, since you aren't saying anything, I'll start. Murdock, I woke up this morning and everyone was gone. Are you going to tell me what's going on, or do you want me to start guessing?"

"I've gotta take you home. The team has to leave tomorrow morning."

"Oh," she replied blankly. He hadn't said the word 'mission', but it was obvious. "Well, that explains things."

"The good news is that you don't have to stop working on your bird. I convinced Stockwell to let you head back tomorrow to finish her up and get outta there."

"Really? Thanks." She mustered a smile of appreciation. "Hey, she doesn't need much now thanks to you and the guys. I shouldn't have any problems finishing up on my own."

"Yep, she's passed her pre-flight, and all she needs now is..." he heaved a sigh, knowing she didn't need the list. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's your duty."

He breathed a sigh of relief. At least she understood. It was a start. "Thanks. Sorry we'll have to put our date off 'til I get back."

"That's okay, it can wait. Do you know how long you'll be gone?"

He shook his head. "We never do. Days... weeks. It all, uh, depends." He winced, knowing he'd just given the wrong answer - once of uncertainty.

_Here's where the real test starts, and boy do I hate tests._

She didn't respond at first, just simply nodded, then put a hand to her chin and stared out the window. "You know, after everything you did to help, you should have the chance to take her up too. So, stop by the airfield sometime if -" she caught herself "_\- when_ you get back."

Ignoring her minor verbal slip up, Murdock gave a quick glance at her, before turning his eyes to the road again. His warm smile appeared. "I'd really like that."

"Me too." She smiled back. "You know, I was wondering, since you cared enough to help me... is there anything I can help with?"

His smile quickly faded. Amy and Tawnia - this is how it always started with _them_. He immediately thought of his former comrades those many years ago. It was difficult enough when they'd managed to enlist with the team and remembered how concerned he'd been over their well-being, having them in harm's way. Amy had thrived on the danger eventually. Tawnia not as much, but managed well enough. There were just too many close calls to count, yet they tagged along time and time again and he swore to protect them both every single time, no matter the cost.

The past was a different place, he knew that. But there she was, sitting next to him and asking to help_..._ just like _them_.

But he hadn't felt towards them what he felt towards her. He began to feel the anxiety rise at the thought of putting her in any sort of danger. It was bad enough she was injured because of him, and now...

Suddenly, he stomped his foot on the brake. Hard.

"Whoa, hey!" She braced herself as the car came to a sudden screeching halt on the side of the road. "What the...?"

He finally looked at her, a warning of ferocity burning in his eyes. "A.J., please don't ask things like that." His voice had deepened; it was so much more commanding than any tone he had ever used with her before.

"Like what?"

"Like you don't want to help, and you don't want to get involved. It's just not..." he trailed off, struggling to finish what his mind was thinking.

She reached out and rested her hand atop his clenched fist, hoping to ease whatever was bothering him. "Isn't it a little late for that?"

"Not if I have anything to do with it." He looked down at her touch and thought about when he kissed her; when he let his instincts take him beyond that fine line of simple acquaintanceship.

_Don't let this one fly away._

He pushed Face's voice out of his head. "Look, I just know with who your dad was, that you-"

"I'm not my dad, Murdock!" She blurted out in exasperation, surprising both of them. "I wasn't asking if the team needed help, I was talking about _you - _just you."

"_Me...?_ Oh." Realizing he'd misunderstood, he hid his wince by rubbing his forehead. "I'm sorry, I misunderstood, okay?"

"You wouldn't be the first one... but just to be clear here, there's no way I'd _ever_ go along with whatever Stockwell is putting you all through, okay?"

"That's all I needed to know. Thank you." Relieved, he patted her hand, then reached for the shifter.

"Wait." She held onto his hand so he couldn't move. "Before we go, and before _you_ go, there's something I want to tell you."

"What's that?"

She quickly leaned over and met his lips in a gentle moment of pure apology. She finally pulled away, telling him, "Thank you. You didn't just fix my bird, you helped fix me as well." She traced his tense jawline with her finger, their first argument now long forgotten. "So, let's try this again. Before you go running off to save the world tomorrow, how can I help you - and just you, H.M. Murdock? What do _you_ need?"

His eyes widened. He was just about to tell her _exactly_ what he needed, but his stomach growled first. "Dinner?" he winced, and her gentle laughter followed.

"Okay, let's go. It's a date."

And without another word, he shifted the car back into gear and pulled onto the road once again; this time heading in the opposite direction.

* * *

"Sorry it's not much to look at," he said sheepishly as they stepped into the small apartment and flipped on a nearby light switch. "Make yourself at home, okay? I have some things to get packed before tomorrow, it won't take but a few."

She quietly took in the surroundings. Bare walls, near-empty shelves. "I thought you lived with the guys back at Langley."

"In Stockwell hell? Not on your life," he scoffed.

She chuckled at the appropriate term. "I can honestly say I know what you mean by that."

"Not many people do. You can consider yourself privileged."

"I do." One particular photo caught her eye of four familiar men with arms around one another and huge grins. She smiled back. "So, how long have you lived here?"

"Mm, it's been about six months now since we moved out here from L.A. So, uh," he rushed to change the subject, hoping she wouldn't ask details about where he'd stayed prior. "Would you mind turning on the radio over there? These walls are pretty thin."

"Sure." She walked over to the small stereo, flipped it on, and saw the 'Atari' system next to the small antennae television. "Is this how you occupy yourself during your downtime?" she teased him. "Playing video games?"

"Sure, why not? It keeps the hand-eye coordination in shape anyway." There was a long pause and he added, "To be honest with you, I'm in-between jobs right now. Do you know how tough it is to keep an employer happy when you pull a disappearing act on a moment's notice?"

"I can imagine it's tougher on you dropping everything on a whim like this."

There was a long pause, then he answered, "I'm used to it."

She craned her neck to try catch a glimpse of him, but he was too far buried in the closet to see anything. Nearby, there was a small bookcase recessed in the wall and skimmed the titles. _H.M.S. Uylsses_, _Abnormal Psychology, ChickenHawk, A Brief History in Time._ Then a familiar book caught her eye and she picked out Charles Lindbergh's _The Spirit of St. Louis._ On opening it, she immediately noticed the foreign blue ink scrawled on the inside cover.

_To our crazy-ass pilot and my loyal friend, thanks for saving my neck again. __~Templeton A. Peck '79__  
_

"Is this why you're still flying solo, too?" She had blurted out the question without even realizing it.

"What do you mean?" he asked, voice muffled with his head still buried in the closet.

"Well, we both know that anytime you take to the sky that it could be the last. It's the same with these missions, isn't it?"

"A.J.!" He backed out of the closet and looked over at her, still on his knees. "I don't want to answer that - I _won't._"

"You haven't found anyone who understands... or even accepts that risk, have you?"

He squared his jaw, then shook his head solemnly.

"Lindbergh explains it well." She held up the book to show him.

"Why don't you explain it to me?" It was a daring question; one that he _wanted_ her to answer. He watched as she set the book down, pondering what exactly to say. "C'mon, you bluffing, Ace - or are you gonna show me a winning hand?"

"A pilot may drink the wine of the Gods," she began with a smile, remembering their very first poker game that night. "But it is an earthly taste. Down below lies the Earth, factual and... hard. But it's an intellectual knowledge tucked inside the mind, not one that, uh, penetrates the body." Her voice quivered on the last words, realizing she'd picked the one line full of innuendo, then saw the amusement in his eyes as he rose to his feet and walked towards her.

"And if at times, you renounce experience and mind's heavy logic, it seems that- uh..." She found herself stumbling over the lines she once could so easily recollect as he now stood face to face. "The world has rushed - uh, _rushed_ along on its orbit, leaving I... you - I mean _you _leaving, uh… sorry, I'm a bit rusty." She sheepishly grinned and shrugged in conclusion.

He finished, "Leaving you alone flying above a forgotten cloud bank, somewhere in the solitude of interstellar space." The words touching deep into his soul, moreso than simply reading the printed word as he'd done so many times before... alone and forgotten. The butterflies returned, full force this time and he swallowed hard and continued to stare her way. Intently.

She recognized his expression and felt the heat climb to her cheeks. "You didn't really bring me here just to watch you pack, did you?"

It was more a statement than a question, but he answered anyway. "No, Ace," he whispered.

As they embraced, his worry seemed to be swallowed up into an unknown void. She rested her head against his chest and heard the distinct thumping of his heart.

_Is it just me, or is it faster than normal?_

Completely absorbed in the pulsing rhythm, she had no idea how much time had passed until she felt this fingertips brush against her face. They gently tilted her chin upwards and his lips met hers in a passionate kiss. This time it was certain; fierce. Temperatures rose, skin flushed; it was a pent-up energy on both sides... which soon came to a head as they moved closer, his waist pressed against hers, telling her...

"_Whoa_ there, _Tiger._" Managing a moment of conscious thought, she drew back slightly, gently pushing his chest. "Pull the throttle back for a second. I thought you had to pack?"

After a stealthy glance at his watch behind her back, he planned out what time was left. Then he dismissed any thoughts of the mission with a shake of the head and uttered one simple word before pulling her in even closer.

_"Later..."_


	10. Chapter 10 - Severance Day

Chapter 10 - Severance Day

* * *

The sun hadn't yet made an appearance as the van sped along the serpentine shaped road, with the fog lights at maximum, illuminating the wet road ahead. As the wipers swished at full speed, B.A. tested his precious van's limits, pushing the accelerator all the way to the floor. They flew wildly down a hill and as they approached a nearby bend, his quick jerk of the wheel kept them from nosediving into a nearby ditch.

Distracted by the phone, Hannibal balanced himself with a quick grab of the armrest and hardly gave the jarring motion a second thought. Face, still half asleep, was thrown into the sliding door for the third time and he'd had enough - as they only left the house less than five minutes ago. He leaned forward and glared.

"Take it easy, will ya B.A.? If you don't pick up that lead foot of yours, we won't have to worry about getting killed on this mission. You'll take care of that yourself."

B.A. shot a quick glare through the rear-view mirror. "Shut up and let me enjoy this, Face. I haven't touched my van in a week because it's been _chopper_ this, _chopper_ that." He spat the word like it was a mouthful of rotten milk.

Face snickered. "Now isn't that funny - you and this van, is kinda like her and her, you know..." He pointed a finger at the ceiling then twirled it like a rotor blade.

B.A. turned around for a split second to see what he was talking about, and that particular thought brought forth his lighthearted chuckle. She really was the last person he'd expect to have something in common with...

* * *

The sound of ringing startled him out of what had been a deep slumber. With a groan, he rolled over, grabbed for the phone and wound up knocking it completely off the nightstand. He reached down into the darkness and fumbled around a bit, then finally hoisted the receiver up by the cord and held it to his ear.

"Murdock here."

A muffled voice was all that he heard in response. After turning the receiver around, he spoke into the right end this time. "What's that? Oh, good morning, Colonel." The questions started firing away the moment he turned on the nearby lamp. "Yeah, I'm up." He stifled a yawn and attempted a more wakeful tone. "Mm-hmm." His eyes suddenly cracked open. "Uh, A.J.?" Still listening, he fixed his gaze on her, or rather her silhouette under the covers. "Yeah, she's fine, Colonel."

_More than fine._

A few seconds passed and he answered, "No, I didn't. She's, uh… here." Almost immediately he winced and quickly pulled the receiver away. He looked over and noticed her stir, as he put the phone back to his ear. "Yeah, swing by and pick me up. Okay, see you then."

He set the phone back on its cradle and sighed heavily. As the sleepiness slowly cleared from his head, he glanced at the clock then crawled back under the covers to the warmth that stayed beside him all night.

He simply stared, a knowing smile playing at his lips, while her adoring expression stared back. As her warm chuckle followed, he wondered if she was recalling what happened last night, or if she'd been amused by Hannibal; whose voice boomed loud enough to be heard beyond the confines of the receiver.

_"What do you mean she's there?!"_

* * *

"What do you mean she's _there?_" Hannibal scolded so loudly into the phone that it wiped the smile off B.A.'s face. He managed a quick look to his right, and caught the look of utter displeasure on Hannibal's face.

"Fine, we'll be by to pick you up."

Face leaned to the side and watched Hannibal slam the phone back into the holster, then reached up with his gloved hand and let it rest against his brow, wrinkled in frustration. Intrigued, he couldn't help but offer his opinion as he leaned forward slightly.

"You, uh, should've seen that one coming, you know."

The way Hannibal shot a warning look in return told him otherwise.

"Oh, come on, Hannibal. I can't believe you missed it! Just look at her!" Face resisted the urge to laugh, "and look at him. It's obvious he's crazy about her."

"You mean just _crazy,_" B.A. was quick to correct, then wondered aloud, "Thought we weren't supposed to get involved with our clients."

Face was quick to respond, "Ah, that's where a little technicality comes in; she didn't hire us out. You see, It's the old innocent bystander loophole. Yeah, I've used that one a few times myself; those poor, poor bystanders." A proud look washed over his face as he reminisced.

Bemused, Hannibal had the sudden pangs of a nicotine fit and began fishing around his jacket pocket. He wasn't exactly sure why he'd gotten so angry. It was a rarity; yelling at Murdock like that. And Face was right, she wasn't a client, but relationships always had a way of complicating things with the team, and the last thing they all needed was things getting even more complicated. Stockwell had corned the market on that.

"Murdock and A.J.?" B.A. scrunched his face at the very thought, then shrugged. He would rather mind his own business at this point and focus on driving instead.

* * *

Murdock figured he'd possibly set a world record for the fastest time running around like a beheaded chicken trying to shower and dress himself. Now, with everything in check, he turned to his final matter at hand, who had been waiting patiently at the door. He stood before her, an apologetic expression on his face while he hurriedly pulled on his jacket. The last thing he wanted was to leave like this, especially after, well...

All the rushing about came to a standstill with her tight embrace. Wanting to hold onto the moment forever, he closed his eyes to take with him every detail. The smell of her hair; the feel of her hands as they ran under his jacket and around his back; the sound of her voice as she whispered up to him.

"Hey, I figured out how I can help."

_Oh no, not this again. Not now, not right before I'm about to leave._

"Ace, we talked about this," he pulled back and began to protest, but a finger to his lips hushed him, a smile on her face.

"I've got a backlog of work from the past week that's going to need catching up on. You're more than welcome to come and help with after you're back."

Realizing she'd caught him off guard, he recovered and managed an awkward laugh. "A job, huh? Just what makes you think I'm qualified?" His knowing grin followed.

Immediately after, the van's familiar horn was heard blaring outside, and the rushing started once again. "Here." He took her hand and placed a ring of keys into it. "These are for the car parked outside, my apartment here and the bay too - the code is seventeen oh-one D. Remember that."

Her eyes looked up, full of question, which he had no problem answering. "Stockwell might have given the okay to let you finish, but when it comes to him you just never know. So, if anything happens, just... stay here if you absolutely need to."

"Are you sure?" A faint whisper was all she could manage.

He answered with a confident smile. "Don't worry. I'll be back for those. You just stay out of trouble."

"I think I should be the one saying that to you. Take care of yourself, Tiger."

Once again the honking started and B.A.'s thunderous voice was heard through the walls.

_"Hey man, hurry up, we're gonna be late! Whatcha doing in there, fool?"_

There was no time left and he reached for the door. "Be right back." With one final glance her way, he winked, then closed it behind him.

She was left standing there with keys in hand, pondering what to do next. It was way too early to leave for Stockwell's just yet. So, finding her way back to the living room couch, she sat down, and reached over to pick up The Spirit of St. Louis.

This time, she opened it to the first page and began to read.

* * *

As the heavy rain poured down on him, Murdock tossed his bag into the back of the van and climbed in after it. He took his usual seat behind B.A. and clicked the seat belt across his lap. As he looked up, three pairs of questioning eyes were staring at him.

"What?" Murdock innocently muffled through a mouthful of Twinkie he'd shoved in his mouth a few seconds prior.

Hannibal looked at his watch, then back to him. "Oversleep, Captain?"

He swallowed, shook his head in reply then glanced over at Face, who had been starting intently his way, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Don't try to hide it, Murdock." Face went for the gusto and playfully punched his shoulder. "I see that look. You see it, guys?"

Murdock pulled his hat down over his eyes and hid beneath it. This was the _last_ thing he needed.

Shaking his head, Hannibal found no further desire to ponder about such matters. There were more important things that needed attending to.

"Let's go, B.A.!"

The accelerator gunned and the van tore out of the parking lot. It was almost a three-hour ride to the harbor. B.A. would try to make it in two.

* * *

The rain had begun to let up just as daybreak arrived behind thick gray clouds. Soon after, the van pulled up to the harbor and came to a stop beside Stockwell's familiar limo. As they stepped out and stretched, B.A.'s eyes looked up towards the sky, feeling a light mist fall upon his face. Even with the damp weather, knowing they weren't traveling by air was enough to let a giggle escape from his lips.

"It's a fine day for a boat ride, what do you guys think?" B.A. cheerfully offered, then headed to the back of the van to unload. It didn't take long to take the bags and make their way to the dock where Stockwell was waiting, quite impatiently, for the team's arrival.

"Good morning, gentleman. I trust you're ready to get on your way." Stepping aside, Stockwell gestured behind him to their awaiting ride.

"Whoa," Face's eyes lit up. The speedboat, sleek with a black gloss finish, was top of the line and a satisfied smile appeared on his face. "Now that's first class. I almost hate to say it guys, but B.A. was right this time. This is definitely better than jumping out of a plane, any day of the week."

"I thought you would approve," Stockwell responded dryly. Growing impatient, he motioned them to drop the small talk and load their supplies. They obliged, and soon after, gathered around him at his request.

"Here are the most recent satellite images of the area. As you can see, there is significant heavy brush that blankets the area. You will have sufficient cover, I expect you to use it to your advantage. I'm expecting a check in every hour and a progress report every two. I don't have to remind you how important this mission is, so I don't want to have to bail you gentlemen out - again."

_What about those times we've had to bail you out, you sneaky no good…_

Clearing the thoughts from his head, Face pursed his lips. "Hey, as long as we have all the correct information General, we'll do just fine."

"I'm driving," B.A. was quick to state. By land or by sea, he would be in control and no one argued.

Hannibal climbed into the boat, and then turned to face Stockwell, who held out the folder of information. After rolling it up and tucking it into the inner pocket of his jacket, a fresh cigar appeared almost out of nowhere. Lighting it, he said, "Once we've set up camp, we'll hook up the transmitter and send a full status report."

"There's one more thing about the boat, Colonel. It's equipped with a homing system with a range capable of being tracked even in international waters." With a smirk he added, "So no taking it on any extended vacations. Is that understood?"

Hannibal resisted the urge to snicker as he held a hand to his brow, giving him a quick sarcastic salute. "Bon voyage, General."

"And, uh, do try to bring her back in one piece, gentlemen." Stockwell couldn't resist that last minor detail.

Face looked up; his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"How about we bring ourselves back in one piece?"

* * *

She sat up abruptly as the sound of thunder rattled the window beside her, startled out of another dream. She looked down at the book, still in her hands, then stood up and placed it back on the bookshelf. After a check of the time, she quickly gathered up her belongings, and headed out - pulling the door closed behind her and making her way to the same car they'd arrived in the night prior.

When she pulled up to the driveway back at Langley, an Able was immediately there, ready to escort her.

"Good morning, Miss Parker. I'm here to see you have everything in order, per the General's request."

"How thoughtful," she replied, failing to hide the sarcasm.

_Still doesn't trust me._

Opening the vehicle bay doors, they walked inside, and she approached what had once been a mangled heap only two weeks ago. After a quick once over, she knew it was sound, mechanically, trusting in not only B.A.'s skills, but Hannibal and Murdock's. Aesthetically speaking it still had a long way to go, as the exposed dull gray steel was a reminder it wasn't yet completed.

As the Able settled into a nearby chair behind her, she climbed into the cockpit.

Her hand gripped the cyclic, longing to just lift off right then, but there was still more work to be done. As she realized just how close things actually were to being completed, she suddenly felt more determined than ever to finish, this time on her own.

Looking through the windshield, her gaze caught a large stack of boxes and drop cloths leaning against the wall, which hadn't been there the day prior. Curious, she climbed out and made her way over. After tearing open the closest box, she shook her head in amazement at its contents.

"Thank you, guys!"

Even in their absence, she had to say it.

* * *

The boat sped along, slicing the ocean beneath them. Face gave a quick glance behind him to see the last bit of land slowly fading away into the horizon. Turning to the sky above, the sunlight was fighting its way to peek through the clouds. He rolled up the legs on his camouflage fatigues and propped them up on the bow. With hands resting behind his head, he was in his element now, speeding along in one of the most exquisite and probably expensive boats he'd ever laid eyes on. As the wind whipped through his hair, he knew it would need a serious combing when they arrived.

It was times like these that the perks were almost worth the risk.

Almost.

He turned to look at Murdock and watched with amusement as his futile attempt at keeping his hat fixed on his head. He finally gave up and turned it backwards, and no longer had anything to hide behind.

"Sounds like she took the news well. You guys work everything out?"

Murdock gave a single nod in response and then turned his eyes back to the endless churning water ahead. It was definitely an understatement, but he didn't find it in himself to elaborate further.

"At least this one has potential." Face pressed the issue, too curious to let this conversation go, "Ah, it's just as well. Time see what life is like on the normal side for a change, right?"

With a hand at his lips, Murdock almost couldn't believe things had come to this. Today was supposed to be redemption day. Instead, he'd been called away unexpectedly and he felt terrible.

Face's voice pulled him away from his thoughts and shook his head in disappointment. "Too bad we didn't finish the job though. You know, even _I_ was looking forward to seeing that bird up there after everything we did."

It had taken a few hours, but finally the shoreline was now rapidly approaching. The GPS system had performed its job with perfection, guiding the boat directly towards the cluster of large islands that mirrored the satellite imagery still tucked away in his pocket.

Hannibal stared through the set of binoculars, then commanded, "Okay, cut it here, B.A."

The engine ceased. As Hannibal dropped anchor, Face looked over at him in confusion. "How are we going to get all the way over there, swim?" A sarcastic tone followed, "I don't think all this sensitive equipment will make it."

"Hope you brought your sea legs, Face." Murdock teased.

Hannibal gestured them towards the rear of the boat. "Murdock, give me a hand, will ya?"

Together, they lifted up the tarp on the rear of the boat, which uncovered an IRB. Face could only gape in disbelief at they pushed the small rubber boat into the water.

"So much for first class," Face mumbled as he watched Murdock ease his way into the rubber boat first.

Ignoring the sarcasm, Hannibal tossed a bag his way. "We can't risk detection, Face. Now help us load these supplies will ya?" He then called out, "B.A., get that frequency jammer up and running. We don't need to blow our cover the second we set foot over there. If we're detected before we get anywhere near that compound, I don't need to tell you what that means."

It was enough to quiet them all and focus on the task at hand. It took quite some time, but eventually all the supplies were loaded. The small engine revved and they pulled away, leaving Stockwell's boat far behind.

Three round trips and most of the afternoon later, their supplies were transported and unloaded. A lucky break brought them a small clearing in the island brush just beyond the shoreline.

"Let's set up base here," Hannibal suggested after a quick glace around the area. It was well concealed - perfect for a base camp; hopefully, far enough away that they could remain undetected. Soon after, four tents were erected and covered with branches from nearby brush.

Hannibal checked his watch, "Time for our hourly check in. B.A., contact the General to tell him we've arrived in one piece."

With a nod, B.A. pulled the transmitter from his pocket and spoke into it. "This is Fox three. Come in, Hound."

There was a faint crackle of static. Finally, a response from a familiar voice broke through.

"The is the Hound, responding."

Leaning over, he replied, "This is Fox, reporting as ordered. We've arrived at the den."

"Copy that, Fox, status remains at yellow."

The first message back to Stockwell was complete. B.A. made his way back to Hannibal, who looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Ya get through okay?" Hannibal asked, then went back to his task of carefully molding the plastic explosives.

"Message sent, Hannibal." B.A. stood before him; his arms crossed.

With a nod, he looked back to his hands, "We've got an hour. I'm hoping we'll have half the area covered by then."

"I figure it'll take about ten or so of these to get the job done," he said, commenting while he formed the pliable material in his hands. "This stuff is going to pack one hell of a bang." H looked up, a sparkle gleaming in his eyes. "I can't wait to see it."

As a plume of smoke rose above, B.A. raised an eyebrow. "Uh, you really think you should be smoking them cigars around this stuff?"

Hannibal looked up. "Aw, come now B.A. You can't learn to savor danger if you don't taste it every now and again."

A look of disgust crossed B.A's face and he replied, "Tasting it? We're all gonna wind up eating it if this stuff blows." Turning a heel, he began yet another scout of the area.

Another mold of explosives began forming in his hands, and he felt a grin play at his lips as he heard B.A.'s words drift his way.

_"Foolish jazz!"_

* * *

With the low rumbles of thunder quickly approaching, they converged around the tiny camp.

Face picked at what he thought hardly resembled food and grimaced. "Ugh, it figures. We get the top of the line boats and military gadgets, but you'd think Stockwell could come up with something better than this." He looked at the generic print on the package and felt his stomach turn slightly at the words 'beef stew'.

Murdock sniffed, then offered a shrug. "It's not that bad, better than what we ate in Hanoi. Boy that stuff would put the hair on your chest, then burn it off."

"That's only because you'll eat anything," B.A. couldn't help to chime in.

"Yeah well, when we get back, we'll order the victory pizza, like we always do."

The conversation was quickly cut short as the heavy clouds above them opened and the rain began to pour. The fire quickly began to sizzle and soon drowned into wet ash. Three of the four men crept into their tents for cover, sans Hannibal, who quickly pulled the parka over his head and hurried under a nearby tree, hoping it would provide some cover from the weather. As he took the first watch, rifle in hand, he let his mind wander to the unknown of what tomorrow could possibly bring.


	11. Chapter 11 - The Infiltration

Chapter 11 - The Infiltration

* * *

_"Rise and shine, Lieutenant!"_

With a groan, he buried his nose in the crook of his elbow. Ten more minutes, that's all he wanted – just enough to chase the heavy weighted feeling in his head from utter exhaustion. It had been ages since he had to camp, resulting in difficulties falling asleep on the uncomfortable hard surface beneath him. Late to bed, late to rise syndrome had sneakily crept into his tent. Now he was paying the price for uncontrollable restlessness. And that wasn't the only thing sneaking about.

His eyes flew open to the sound of splashing, and he sat up abruptly with a gasp. Droplets of freezing cold water dripped from his now soaked bangs and rolling down his cheeks. Having been shocked completely awake, he snapped a glare towards the tent's opened flaps in protest and the man standing just beyond them.

"Aw, what the-?"

Hannibal's eyes showed nothing but amusement as he held up the now empty bucket. "Up and at 'em, Lieutenant, your pardon awaits!"

* * *

The fierce ocean winds constantly blowing about had covered them in a salty, sandy grit as they trudged along in single file. Hannibal, having stayed up on watch for most of the night, showed no signs of fatigue as he led them carefully through the thick island brush. His careful ear kept a constant surveillance, and to his relief the only sounds thus far had been the squawks of the occasional wildlife, aside from the occasional voice of discomfort from behind.

With the long-range transmitter adding to the endless number of supplies fixed to his back, B.A. was now stifling a grunt with each step taken. The extra weight tested his limits as the seemingly never-ending walk pushed him beyond his comfort zone. His tense muscles were beyond a burning sensation, they were downright screaming for rest. Gritting his teeth, he pressed on, knowing he'd never do such a discrediting action. The day he showed any signs of muscular weakness was the day he'd stop calling Murdock crazy.

Which would be never.

Even Murdock had been unusually quiet, much to B.A.'s pleasure, currently mentally occupied with trying to pretend the watch on his wrist didn't exist. He'd forced himself to keep from glancing down at it when he realized it had become an obsessive twenty-minute ordeal. He almost wished he could pitch it into the dense thick brush they had been endlessly been creeping through, but that was out of the question. Time was one constant that Stockwell insisted on being synchronized with.

Hannibal finally halted in his tracks and turned an about face. "Okay, guys. Let's stop and rest here for a few."

The time for the next transmission to Stockwell was quickly approaching and the constant pace was beginning to wear them all down, especially B.A., who immediately dropped the load off his back and collapsed against a tree, drenched in sweat and panting heavily.

Murdock made his way over to him, knelt down, and offered a canteen with a grateful smile. "Makes fixing choppers look like a picnic. How about it, big guy?"

Lifting his head slightly, B.A. looked over and glared, but he was too busy catching his breath to say anything in retort. He gratefully accepted Murdock's offer though, letting the cool water sooth his burning throat. As his head rested against the tree's trunk, he knew Murdock was right. He wouldn't admit it, of course.

With the transmission to Stockwell completed, Hannibal raised a hand motioning to the southeast, "We're getting close, guys. About ten more clicks. Make sure you keep a constant lookout for any trips, or bugs. We have no idea what Dickenson is capable of doing." He stood up just then, indicating to the others that their short break was over.

Face groaned with the thought of more walking. As he rose to his feet, the sand in his hair threatened to fall into his eyes and he quickly brushed it away with a sweaty palm. He knew he had to be a mess by now. Stopping had only made the sweat pour out more under his fatigues. Hoisting up the heavy pack over his shoulder once again, the lengthy walk continued.

"_Shh,_ get down guys, someone's coming."

As a gust of wind blew their way, Face picked up the faint sounds of conversation in his ears immediately after Hannibal's command. He froze instinctively, feeling his heart begin to pound inside his chest, then crouched down, attempting to blend in the nearby brush.

Hannibal waved his arms in a circle in front of him and motioned for them to separate. "Split up," he commanded. "Use the radios. Don't give them a chance to pin us all at once."

B.A. ducked into the brush ahead of him and dropped the long range transmitter off his back. Clutching the gun at his side, he caught a glimpse of figures moving just ahead of him. "Face, we've got company over here," he whispered into his receiver. "Can you help me take them down?"

"I see them, B.A."

Two guns raised simultaneously, then two muffled shots fired .

"Done."

"Search them," Hannibal's commanding voice broke through the radio immediately after.

B.A. silently crept over, slung the pair of machine guns over his neck and then knelt down in front of the bodies. After a thorough pat down, he keyed his radio.

"They're clean, Hannibal, just a couple of scrubs."

"I've got another over here, Colonel." Murdock's voice broke through the radio next. "Didn't even know what was coming."

"Good. Next time we might not be so lucky. Let's go before they realize they're missing men."

They regrouped and pressed forward, this time all senses heightened on alert.

A short time later, poking through a large area of brush, Hannibal stopped abruptly, then pulled a pair of binoculars to his eyes and peered through.

"We made it," he whispered.

"What's over there, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

Turning back to the group, he offered a grim look. "The security wall is reinforced concrete and higher than I expected, about twenty feet up. I hate to admit it, but this isn't going to be as easy as we thought."

Face rolled his eyes, "Thirty feet? That's a lot of concrete, Hannibal. It's not like climbing a chain link fence."

Murdock shook his head in disbelief. "Dickenson couldn't possibly have enough funding to do this on his own. Last we heard, he was a black market dealer. Where could he be getting this kind of support?"

"It could be from anyone," Hannibal shrugged. "Iran hasn't been too neighborly with us lately, not to mention China." Hannibal felt his anxiety began to rise. "Iraq or even North Korea for that matter. If this guy is collaborating with any of those countries, they could be planning something disastrous."

It was a terrifying thought as they all exchanged bewildered looks. Knowing they just couldn't stand there, they had to press forward. They crept ahead silently, and soon found themselves a few feet from the south wall.

With a deep breath, Hannibal crouched down, huddled everyone together and formed a plan.

"Murdock, go scout the east side. Face, take the west. B.A., make your way around to the front gate and try to get an idea of how many more we're dealing with here. I'm going to get a peek over this thing." He gestured to the wall. "I want to know exactly what we're up against."

They all nodded in agreement, then split up. With his back against the concrete and a cigar clenched in his teeth, Hannibal set his plan into action and keyed his radio, "I'm going up. Try to keep a low profile. I want to see how far this guy's gotten into building his little toy before we try to go in there."

"They've got about eight ballistic missiles sitting pretty over here, Hannibal." Face's voice replied back, "And by the size of the storage unit back here, there could be more inside, a whole lot more."

Murdock's voice crackled over the radio soon after. "Watch your back Hannibal, there's about a guard wandering your way."

Hannibal rummaged through his pack, pulled a grappling hook from his supplies, then tossed the bag in the brush behind him. With his expertise, he quickly tossed it and it sailed over the wall. He tugged at the rope and the spikes dug into the concrete as he pulled himself up for a quick peek.

_Bastard Stockwell screwed us again, I swear he's trying to kill us every chance he gets._

Multiple reinforced holes in the ground with the noses of missiles peeking out ever so slightly - it was then he realized the true reality of the situation. Letting go of the wall with one hand, he grabbed at his radio and keyed it with trembling fingers.

"Guys," his frantic whisper hissed. "Fall back. Get to the transmitter and get Stockwell on the horn. Foxtrot is a code red, repeat, code red!" Immediately after, he quickly slid down the wall with one hand, the other still holding the radio as he continued to whisper into it. "I repeat, fall back and regroup."

Halfway down the wall, he let go completely and the ground pounded against his feet as he landed with a crouch. Whirling around, he stood ready to dive into the nearest brush behind him, ready to backtrack with the rest of his unit.

The sound of guns cocking made him freeze in his tracks.

"Hold it right there."

Hannibal stared at the three heavily armed guards, guns aimed, ready to fire. He grinned.

"Hi guys."

* * *

This was not going as planned. Not by a long shot.

Murdock sprinted through the brush, the ground almost non-existent beneath his feet. Quickly rejoining Face and B.A. at their rendezvous point, all he could hear running through his head were those sounds through Hannibal's receiver, the definite sounds of struggle and a single gunshot soon afterwards.

"They've got Hannibal," he said, heaving a sigh.

"We gotta go in and get him outta there, man." B.A. winced, clenched his gun and began pacing. He couldn't stand it. To come all this way and have Hannibal captured right off the bat like this, it just wasn't right.

"B.A., how are we gonna do that? There's security crawling all over this place now, and you heard the shot," Face immediately shook his head in worry as they huddled together. He heard the same thing over his own radio, and it hadn't sounded good at all.

"Let's get that message to Stockwell. Maybe he'll send in reinforcements."

Ducking into the brush, B.A. dug into long range transmitter that had remained hidden. Face crouched down, held the receiver to his ear and whispered.

"This is Fox Two reporting, come in Hound. We're upgraded to a code red, repeat. Fox One has been captured, please advise."

They listened for the voice to reply and heard only static. Face tried again, "Repeat, come in, Hound. Fox Two here. Code red, repeat." Releasing the radio's button, there was only crackling and hissing, which hadn't been there prior.

Murdock shook his head, "Sounds like there's some kind of interference."

B.A.'s eyes widened as he deciphered the blips and tones, "More like something is jamming the frequency. If they activated a scrambler somewhere in that base, our long-range communication's no good anymore."

"Oh great," Face muttered. "So, we have to backtrack that entire way just to get in contact with Stockwell?" With a sigh, he pointed a thumb behind his shoulder. "Come on, let's go."

"No way, Face." B.A. protested, "I ain't leavin' Hannibal."

Face hated to think a worst-case scenario, but he couldn't help bringing them all back to reality. "B.A., they could've already -"

"Shut up, Face." Murdock interrupted, clenching his teeth. To him, Hannibal was alive. Nothing would convince him otherwise. "Besides, since when does Stockwell send in reinforcements, huh? How about never! The minute we fail to check in, he'll dump us faster than you can say _adios muchachos_."

Face put a hand to his head, as a look to the sky told him darkness would be arriving soon. Completely frustrated, he felt the anxiety begin to rise.

_Why me?_

His hand dropping to his side, he squared his jaw and looked to the two pair of eyes, waiting for his command.

"Okay, so we're staying here. Now what?"

* * *

"What are you doing here, American?"

_What a stupid question._

"We're on vacation." Hannibal sat calmly in the chair, hands bound behind him. If that dim wit thought that particular question was going to be answered, he had another thing coming. He'd been through his share of forced interrogations and this one had been a picnic so far. Tied to a chair, the barrel of a gun had been pointed at his chest numerous times but from the look in his eyes, Hannibal knew he didn't have the guts to fire.

That fact had been made clear when the shot fired earlier was aimed at the clouds, not his head.

"Your lies will only make your suffering worse." Once again the gun poked his chest, "Out with it!"

Hannibal looked up, blue eyes piercing into his, taunting him.

_C'mon, hit me you ugly son of a bitch. Show me how tough you are._

The blow he was expecting came quickly. A balled-up fist flew his way, and his abdominal muscles easily took the full blow. It wasn't nearly as hard as he expected, and he recovered with little effort.

Hannibal looked up and smiled. It slowly morphed into a wide grin at the fact that the guy couldn't throw a punch worth spit.

"Your mother teach you how to hit?"

That sent his captor over the edge. With a snarl he drew back a fist. It was a right cross to the face this time. His head flew to the side, with a pain in his mouth followed soon after. Running a tongue over the edge of his lip, he felt the split down the middle and tasted blood.

_At least he has initiative._

"Tell me why you are here." A pair of hands grabbed Hannibal's squared shoulders, shaking them violently. "What are your plans?"

When he didn't respond, the brunt of the gun pulled back, then swung his way, hitting him square in the midsection. This time it was a lot harder than Hannibal expected. The sudden rush of air was forced from his lungs and he choked. It took him a few moments to finally catch his breath.

"I'm..., here," he coughed, feeling the aching in his ribs, hoping nothing had been broken, "on vacation."

The goon began to untie him from the chair. "Think you're funny, filthy pig?"

"Actually, I've been told I should've been a comedian instead of an actor, but...," A threatening voice interrupted them both.

"Well, well, I see our visitors have arrived."

As Hannibal was manhandled to his feet, he looked over to the other side of the room, watching the familiar man walked towards him. Poised with confidence, he stood nose to nose with Hannibal, eyeing him up.

"If he won't talk, we'll just have to find out for ourselves."

Exchanging amused looks with his fellow comrade, Ronald Dickenson finished with, "Let's find out exactly how he got here."

* * *

Nightfall had arrived and a fog rolled in soon after. Through what little moonlight that was able to shine his way, Face continued to rummage through the brush. "Aha," he exclaimed, holding up the bag he'd been searching for. Unzipping it, he inspected the packs of explosives. "Thank God Hannibal had the sense to leave some of these behind. If we hadn't, we might as well be packing it in."

"What about the detonator?" B.A. asked.

"Hannibal had it hidden under his jacket." Murdock answered, "If they didn't search him well enough, we might still have a chance to get it."

And if he's still alive.

The sound of hinges squeaking suddenly distracted them. After exchanging quick glances, they peeked through the bushes, and watched as the perimeter gate opened slowly.

"What are they doing?" Murdock curiously whispered to himself, waiting to see what was next.

Vehicle headlights suddenly glared, a shadowed figure standing before them, casting a dark silhouette.

"Is that Hannibal?" B.A. blurted out in excitement.

"Shh, get down!" Face hissed.

They watched as the figure emerged from the front gate of base. Face pulled a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

It was indeed Hannibal, alive and well, much to the relief of his fellow comrades.

"Walk!" he commanded from the jeep.

Hannibal began a steady pace, as the jeep drove at his heels, well aware of the guns pointed directly at his back.

"Think he's being forced to lead them to us?" Face asked, ducking his head back down.

"He would never do that, never." Murdock shook his head.

On the contrary, Hannibal was heading straight towards the rendezvous point, his eyes darting left and right, frantically searching for some sign of the team.

He trusted in that fact with his life. He quickly hunched over and without thought, gave his best impression of a bird call. With his head lowered well out of sight, he heard Hannibal clear his throat loudly.

Then twice.

"He knows we're here," Murdock hissed.

As the jeep came closer, Face caught a glimpse of the occupants. One in particular stood out, in full camouflage gear.

"That's Dickenson." Murdock pointed to the man who was wearing the Army uniform he had one disgraced long ago. "You can count on him to pull the trigger, but not before he'll suffer first."

Face studied Hannibal's posture carefully, then gave a worried look. "By the way he's walking, it looks like they've already tried."

B.A. growled. "At that pace, he won't make it back to shore before sunrise."

Not if he had anything to do with it. "Let's get outta here before he sees us. Go!" They darted off deeper into the trees and crouched back down. As the jeep passed over the spot where they had stood, they watched as Hannibal pressed onward.

"Wherever he's going, we're going to follow him." Face said, before leading them close behind the jeep.

Staying well out of sight, Dickenson led them all into the fog ahead.

* * *

_Tick... tick... tick..._

Stockwell sat back in his chair, his eyes constantly darted to the second hand on his watch, which ticked away the seconds. After the second hand made its fifth rotation, he nervously chewed the nail on the tip of his thumb.

"They're late," he finally grumbled.

Carla stood nearby, at the ready by the transmitter's receiver, anticipating that any moment there would be a voice on the other end. "The last transmission at twelve hundred hours was mostly interference and..." she gave a quick glance over at the clock, "that was two hours, five minutes ago."

Stockwell shook his head in disapproval. "I presume you've tried contacting them."

"Numerous times." Carla nodded. "No response on any frequency."

Beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead as he tensed at the news. With a quick motion, his glasses were off and he pinched the bridge of his nose in thought.

"Shall I contact the President?" Carla suggested.

"Not yet. I wouldn't put it past Smith and the others to jump out of the woodwork, just as the entire national security is put on alert."

"And if they've been captured?"

Stockwell glanced her way and his eyes hardened.

"Then they have a problem, don't they?"

* * *

"Keep walking, you son of a..."

Hannibal trudged through the sand, one foot in front of the other. Dehydration was beginning to set in, with Dickenson ignoring every water request. The salty air didn't help things either as he ran his tongue over his lips, which were as dry as a martini.

_Martini…, what I wouldn't give to be back home with one of those right about now. Face makes great martinis._

Ignoring those thoughts, he gave a flex of his wrists. Unable to move his fingers, he couldn't even attempt to pick at the knot that bound then together and attempt a dive into the brush to escape. Another plan scratched off the list. Only the sounds of a distant birdcall told him his fellow comrades were still with him.

Dickenson's jeep nipped at his heels as they backtracked through the same path, crossing the wet sandbars. Hannibal looked down as he passed over the blackened ash of the campfire from the night prior.

Just before reaching the shoreline, Hannibal stopped in his tracks and jeep rolled to a sudden halt.

"Is there a problem?"

"Mind if I have a cigar?" He tipped his chin towards his upper breast pocket. A cold hard stare came in reply and Hannibal pressed the issue. "C'mon, isn't it within every man's right to have just one small request before he eats it?"

A few moments later, Dickenson jumped from his jeep, walked up to Hannibal and pressed the barrel of the gun against his gut. He eyed him, then he pulled a cigar from his front pocket and placing it in his mouth.

Hannibal flashed his teeth, then motioned to his pocket. "Lighter's in there."

Reaching into the other pocket, Dickenson retrieved the metal zippo, and in doing so, found something else. He held the little black box up, inspecting it carefully.

"What's this?"

"Now that," Hannibal's lips rolled the cigar, using it to point like a finger, "is a little something to ruin your day."

As he raised the lighter to his lips, Dickenson sneered. "I think it's your day that's about to be ruined." With the cigar ablaze, Dickenson took the detonator and hurled it into the trees behind him. A smug, satisfied look appeared just before a hard shove pushed Hannibal onward.

When they'd reached their destination, Hannibal calmly stood, his back pressed into the tree trunk behind him. The ropes became tighter and tighter as they encircled his wrists and ankles. He tried to shuffle his feet to get just the smallest bit of slack in but they were just too tired to move.

A fire began to grow within, the intimidation that he was so well known for starting to emerge.

"Dickenson, I wouldn't mess with us. You see, we know all about your little operation here. You see, the U.S. government is well aware of your plans and they're already on the way to stop you. You don't have a prayer."

"Oh, I think you're wrong, _Smith._"

Hannibal looked up at him in surprise, hearing his name for the first time.

"Ah yes, it is Smith, isn't it? Colonel John Smith. You didn't think I forgot about you and your famous little bank robbers, did I? The last I heard, you guys were blown away by a firing squad. I see you managed to weasel you way out of that one. It's too bad fate has finally caught up with you this time."

Hannibal narrowed his eyes, "You haven't got a prayer, slime ball."

_The guys will come for me._

Dickenson's look remained confident. "On the contrary, you, and your team don't have a chance in hell of ever making it out alive." Pulling a radio from his belt, there was an evil grin on his face as he spoke.

_"Take them down."_


	12. Chapter 12 - Defiance

_**Chapter 12 - Defiance**_

* * *

_"It's an ambush! Get 'em B.A.!"_

They'd been jumped from behind by a cluster of militants and the adrenaline kicked in as they scrambled into action. Fists had suddenly started flying about and they found their assailants were well trained, not to mention extremely well built. Many were taken out with ease, but as even more swarmed in, it soon became apparent that the odds began to turn.

Murdock continued to swing his fists, along with cracking enemy heads into his knee one by one with his most efficient move. Soon after, his energy began to falter, and he failed to see the assailant sneak up behind him. The butt of a gun was aimed carefully at his spine and thrust forward. Murdock cringed as he felt the hard blow and he fell, taking in a mouthful of dirt.

Close by, Face watched his comrade fall, defeated, then quickly ducked a punch thrown his way. He thought he just might have the upper hand - until he felt the severe pain of a no mercy kick right to the family jewels take his breath away. It was his kryptonite. Cradling his injured parts, he hit the ground hard with a painful yelp, and a few pairs of hands restrained him immediately after.

Finally, they all converged on B.A., who was still on his feet and continuing to brush them off. He supported the weight of multiple assailants who were attempting to bring him down by piling atop of him. Finally, a coordinated group effort brought him to his knees. They beat him hard - living daylights hard, until they were able to keep him from thrashing about and then bounded his wrists and ankles. As he lay there helpless, B.A. could only look up as Dickenson's men began to celebrate their victory, finding pleasure in taunting him and his comrades.

"The Corporal was right. They stuck with the prisoner every step of the way."

"You're not so tough, are you mother f-."

Keying his radio, the unnamed assailant grinned as he spoke.

"We got 'em, Corporal."

The trio could only wince as Dickenson's words echoed back through the radio.

"Well done. Bring them here, I have big plans for them all."

* * *

_Oh hell._

Hannibal craned his neck and in disbelief, watched as his three captured comrades trudged his way, with multiple weapons pointed directly their backs. Turning back to Dickenson, a grin pierced though his glaring eyes.

A wide, insane, evil grin.

"Don't underestimate me, Smith. Did you really think I'd have been so foolish to think you came here alone?" Dickenson turned away from him, barking orders. "Tie them up separately. I don't care if you cut off the circulation in their hands, you better make sure they can't move an inch, or your asses will be chum. No one escapes. Do you hear me?"

"What happened?" Hannibal called out to them.

Murdock continued to struggle as he was led forward. "They knew we were following the whole time, Colonel. They set us up." The captor suddenly pushed him, throwing him off balance. As his already sore back banged against the solid mass of the tree trunk, his eyes screwed tight in pain. His arms were forced behind him, around the trunk, and were tightly bound.

Face was led towards a large palm a few yards away, his legs still unsteady from the pain between them. Feeling the blood that was trickling down past his chin now, he pulled his swollen lip inside his mouth and checked how deep the cut was with a flick of the tongue.

Four stitches, tops.

"They came out of nowhere." Face spat a mouthful of blood at his feet immediately after. "Overpowered us."

Overpowered was an understatement. It had been twelve versus one in the case of B.A., who stood, helplessly bound by the arms and legs as well, but he didn't cease to struggle, yelling, "Get off me, sucka! You're gonna be a nice shade of black and blue as soon as I get my hands on you!" With a quick raise of an elbow, B.A. was able to knock his captor upside the chin and send him falling. Turmoil erupted just then as more of Dickenson's men rushed forward to restrain him.

A gunshot suddenly rang out, startling them all into submission. They turned to see Dickenson wave his smoking weapon in the air. He cocked it again and pointed it directly at B.A.

"Shut up, all of you!" he demanded. "Or your friend will meet Saint Peter _right now_."

"Corporal," Dickenson turned to one of his recruits, who held a pair of binoculars his way, pointing. "We found their boat located about a mile off the shoreline."

The binoculars rose. "My, my... what a nice ride, gentlemen!" Soon after, he was keying his radio. "This is Corporal Dickenson here, do you have the coordinates?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then lock on target." Turning to Hannibal, he sneered, then spoke his next order with complete delight.

_"Fire."_

A wailing alarm began to echo far off in the distance. With all eyes on the sky overhead, the whizzing tubular object flew into range a few minutes later, its fiery tail whistling overhead and left a train of exhaust in its wake. They all watched as it sank lower and lower, the anticipation grew.

Then it hit their boat, their only way out, exploded into pieces on impact. The fire rose above the water, followed quickly by black smoke which drifted upwards.

As the delayed thunderous boom rattled the ground beneath them, Face's words followed soon after.

"Oh man, Stockwell's gonna be pissed!"

Four pairs of eyes turned towards the flaming wreckage to the maniacal laughter echoing their way.

"_Ready the next missile!"_

* * *

"How long since the last check in?"

"Five hours, fifty nine minutes."

Stockwell paced. He couldn't stand it - they'd been out of contact for far too long. Shenanigans aside, even Hannibal knew never to break the six-hour rule.

He stared at the clock, watching each tick of the second hand. He pursed his lips harder the closer it approached the twelve. It hit; then the phone rang, almost on cue.

Relaxing for a brief moment, he watched as Carla quickly answered. Searching for any sign on his face indicating it was the Colonel. She gave none. Pulling the receiver away slightly, she only had more bad news.

"General, we just lost the tracker on the boat."

Stockwell's fist pounded the desk so hard it rattled.

_Shenanigans indeed. Damn you, Smith._

The events that were unfolding were becoming a little too unpredictable. He then glanced Carla's way. "If they fail, the consequences could be disastrous, and I don't want that resting on my conscience. I'm going to go find out for myself what's going on over there. Get me Chief Stevens on the blue line now."

Carla reached for phone. She wasted no time in dialing the number and then handed the receiver his way. With her arms folded across her chest, she listened to the one-sided conversation.

"Good morning, Chief. This is General Stockwell. I need an escort sent over to headquarters immediately." There was a long pause, and his eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean you've been hit?" He pulled the receiver away from his ear at the screams and shouts of absolute mayhem.

_"General, our entire fleet was just destroyed by an inbound. Hold on a second - Code red, initiate lockdown! Scramble some fighters out of Patrick, Florida and... it'll be two hours before we can get anything."_

The phone dropped from his hand back on the cradle.

"What do you want to do, General?" Carla asked.

He pulled the glasses from his face and two fingers pinched the bridge of his nose in thought, desperate for anything to come to mind. His options were running out fast, as was his patience. He quickly rose to his feet, he motioned to the door.

"Get the limo."

* * *

"You just don't seem to realize just who you're dealing with here."

As the final swirls of black smoke dissipated, it was obvious Dickenson was a little too overjoyed at the carnage. It seemed to fuel his insanity as he taunted them long after their boat had been destroyed, attempting to feed on the helplessness of the situation.

But he would get none. Even though his back teeth clenched tightly around his cigar, his tone remained fixed and calm as he spoke.

"Vietnam, Phu Thu District, August fifteenth, nineteen sixty-nine."

Those words wiped the smile from Dickenson's face and he turned to walk away.

"Your commanding officer took a slug in the skull at your hands. You traitorous son of a bitch."

"Shut up!" he warned. The sounds of multiple guns cocking back diverted Hannibal's eyes to see at least a dozen henchmen aiming weapons his way, but that didn't stop him.

"You're nothing but a commie bastard who's got his head screwed on backwards. Where you really should be, pal, is six feet under." His blue eyes turned ice cold. "With your soul a hell of a lot deeper than that."

With a swift motion, the gun in Dickenson's hand ripped across Hannibal's jaw. The cigar in his mouth was sent flying.

Murdock winced and turned his head. Simultaneously, Face struggled against the ropes and yelled, "Bastard!" while B.A. threw himself forward, and was immediately jerked back by the ropes. "Hey fool! You touch him again, when you get my hands on you, even the morgue won't be able to recognize you!"

Hannibal's head lifted, eyes illuminating with the jazz. Shaking off the blow, he turned and spat the blood filling his mouth.

Dickenson raised his weapon. "I ought to kill you right now," he told him, finger hovering over the trigger. "Since you just bought yourself a one-way ticket to hell anyways."

_The jazz knows no fear._

He resisted the urge to stare down at the gun pressing against his rapidly beating heart. A few tense moments passed, some watching in horror, others watching with anticipation.

"But I won't ruin the surprise in store for you and your men," Dickenson finally replied, and backed off. Disappointed that he didn't the rise out of Hannibal as he'd hoped, he turned on his heels, and headed back to his jeep.

There was almost a sigh of relief in unison from the team, and they all had the same thought - wondering if Hannibal had lost his mind. They still were undecided after he looked over at them, a grin plastered on his face.

"I love surprises."

* * *

_"Finally."_

Crouched atop of the massive steel structure, she muttered the word after one last, almost obsessive visual check of the rotor heads.

It was complete - from rotors to skids, nose to tail. It felt bittersweet; finding no one else around to celebrate her victory, aside from the benign Able still perched near the door.

The sound of footsteps echoing in the bay caught her attention. She glanced down and saw Stockwell approaching quickly with Carla at his side, in stride as well.

_"Parker!"_

Tension immediately ensued as she stood up, straddling the rotor head. "Yes, General?"

"I came to see if you met your deadline."

Quickly scurrying down from above, she excitedly told him in a rush, "Why yes, General, I did. Just gave her the last once over; in fact. Well, she still needs another hour or so of drying time, but she's mechanically sound. So, if you don't mind -" she stopped abruptly, watching as he touched the underside of the hull, closely inspecting it. When he drew his hand away, he rubbed off the tackiness that now coated his fingertips. She resisted the urge to scold him to stop ruining the brand-new finish and asked, "You're going to help them, right?"

Stockwell's questioning eyes snapped open in surprise. Immediately on alert for the obvious hole in security, his voice strained, asking, "Would you care to elaborate how you know _that,_ Parker?"

"The extra mission credit, remember? I kept my promise and still got her finished before the two-week deadline. You're still going to keep yours, right?"

"Yes, yes, of course." Realizing he'd misunderstood, he quickly waved a dismissive hand.

"Wait, what did you think I meant?" A confused look crossed her face as she watched more cars pull up outside. "What's the hell is going on?"

"I'm here to commandeer your helicopter, Parker," Stockwell stated dryly.

"Very funny, General!" She burst out laughing at his obvious joke. "The guys said you didn't have a sense of humor, but that's a real good one! You almost had me." She finished with a beaming smile, waiting for him to acknowledge the joke.

Instead, the sound of commotion rose as more Ables trickled in the garage bay, military crates in hand. "We're leaving immediately," he told them. "Get it fueled up, load the weapons and clear the cargo area." He pointed to the roof, adding, "And get these bay doors open."

Her mouth gaped just before she began protesting in disapproval. "Wait, what? No! _No way_, General, you can't -"

"I can." Ignoring her protests, he said firmly, "And I expect you to hand over the keys now without any further questions."

"Oh, I have questions, like, _are you out of your mind, General?_" The expression he gave told her the question was redundant. She tried again. "Wait - why can't you scramble a chopper out of Langley? That's what they're there for!"

"Parker, you will keep this information confidential. We just received reports confirming that the Langley Base fleet took substantial damage from a ballistic missile from the east... approximately five minutes ago."

"_What?" _she gaped in disbelief. "No, that's impossible. That was my-"

"We've also lost contact with the A-Team," he interrupted. "I have a dire situation growing out of control here and your helicopter is the closest thing I have to rendezvous with them and try to stop all this before another missile launches. Now, I'm _ordering_ you, Parker, hand 'em over." He stuck his hand out and motioned for the keys.

"General, I don't take orders anymore, remember?" She turned her attention from sizing up the Able and looked Stockwell square in the eyes. "Who's going to fly her?"

"That would be Able Thirteen." Stockwell gestured to the older man climbing in the cockpit.

"Absolutely not." She shook her head at the idea. "If she goes, I go too."

"Out of the question!" His warning glare shot her way. "You'll do it _my way,_ or so help me, I'll -" He pulled off his glasses and stared at her. "Parker, I'm out of time. It's this or nothing and the team won't be coming back, ever."

"Fine, take her." She quickly fished in her pockets and dropped the keys in his hand. "Just please try to bring her back in one piece this time. It's the only thing I have left of him."

"Thank you." He turned away and quickly heading for the fuselage. He suddenly slowed, then noticed his pilot hesitate at the unfamiliar control panel. He looked back at her one last time, sizing her up through his dark sunglasses.

He wouldn't have even considered it if he hadn't seen her service record.

"Parker, let's go - on the double."

"Sir?"

With a final sigh, he tossed the keys back to her. "You've just been recommissioned, _Lieutenant._ Now get us out of here immediately."

* * *

"What should we do with their weapons, sir?"

Dickenson was in full glory as his men tossed them into a pile. "Leave them. Let them gaze upon failure in their final moments."

The four comrades exchanged worried looks at those particular words, just before Murdock called out, "Uh, just what exactly do you have planned for us anyways?"

"Target practice," he replied with a grin. "As soon as my men and I are clear from this area," he trailed off, then mimicking the sound of an explosion, adding. "There won't be anything left of you to identify." As he made his way to the jeep, he called out behind him, "It's a shame you're going to miss what's after that, Colonel Smith. Because I'd give a million bucks to see the look on your face when your precious White House goes up in flames."

* * *

From the moment the blades began to whirl, Stockwell wondered if he'd made a serious judgment error as worst case scenarios plagued his mind, mainly his team's mechanical abilities in reconstructing a machine that had once looked like it belonged in a scrap heap. The second scenario made him as equally apprehensive - the pilot he'd chosen to fly it.

Able Thirteen had been standing by in the co-pilot's seat, ready to take over if she'd shown any hint of hesitance or error. But when the chopper rose without incident, or even a jostle, he focused on their navigation instead.

As soon as the coastline disappeared behind them, Stockwell motioned the Able out of the cockpit and sat in his place instead. He pulled the headset over his ears and glanced over at the pilot who calmly sat next to him, focused intently on the water below.

_"I must say, Parker, you are indeed one who keeps their word. I'm impressed."_

_"Thank you, General."_ She couldn't help but smile at the unexpected compliment. _"So long as the team gets the mission credit they deserve as well. Can I ask what they are doing all the way out here - or us for that matter?"_

_"I'm working on re-establishing contact,"_ Stockwell answered, knowing there was no holding back now. _"They're attempting to stop a renegade militant from destroying the State Capitol."_

The news sank in quickly. _"I see."_

_"I trust you are capable of getting me here."_ He punched in the coordinates on the newly installed GPS. _"So, just do exactly as I say, Lieutenant and we won't have any problems with our newfound partnership."_

After careful thought, she entered a different mindset just then; one she hadn't allowed herself to slip into for over a year...

"Yes, _sir._"


	13. Chapter 13 - Unfettering Bombshells

Chapter 13 - Unfettering Bombshells

* * *

The dread seemed to whisper to them through the ocean breeze. It taunted them as they stood, tugging and twisting relentlessly against their bounds. The steel rope tied around their wrists was so taut and durable, even B.A. couldn't come close to tearing through it. He didn't cease to try though, as he squirmed and pulled, growling the entire time. As he felt the sting of the rope rubbing into raw flesh, he knew it was the end of a futile effort.

_"It's just too strong, man!"_

It was a first, but then again, he had never been bound with steel gauge rope before.

Hannibal stared at the pile of weapons lying on the ground a few feet away from him. He had been trying with all his might to get to just one. All he needed was one. Just one single shot.

"I can't believe it's going to end like this," he muttered though clenched teeth, while a wary eye turned to the cigar smoldering at his feet.

_No way outta this one... guess our luck wasn't going to last forever._

Face looked up, through the swaying branches of the palm trees to the heavens. "Well, I don't think it's that bad of a way to go. Sandy beaches, tropical paradise, just like I'd imagine heaven would be." With one last lunge forward, he sighed in frustration and he ceased to try any further. If B.A. couldn't do it, neither could he. He suddenly found he wanted to talk to someone in particular. Someone he hadn't talked to since he lay on the floor of an Italian restaurant, soaked in his own blood.

_I asked you then, you answered. I'm asking you again now…. please._

Only the sound of a windy gust answered. Suddenly wondering if the others had been watching him, he quickly put on a happy face and pretended he'd been thinking about something else entirely.

"At least I'm going with a nice tan," Murdock mumbled from a few yards away. He seemed to be joking around, but as he stood there helplessly, he found only one thing on his mind as he cast a glance to the clouds above.

_B.A. was right all along, __I really am a fool._

He closed his eyes and banged his head against the trunk behind him. Then he wondered if he'd hit it a little _too_ hard, because he heard the faint sound of _thwap-thwap-thwap_ echoing in his head immediately after.

"Hey, does anyone else hear that?" Wondering if he was imagining it, he struggled to twist around, trying to get a better angle.

With a grimace, Face answered, "Yeah, I hear it. It's the wailing sirens of our impending doom."

"Shh, not that." Murdock exchanged glances with Hannibal, and their eyes both hit the sky simultaneously. "Listen!"

"I hear it too." Hannibal said, then looked to B.A., who recognized the sound and immediately saw his paranoia grow and began to squirm even harder in his ropes.

Face wondered aloud, "You guys think it might be Stockwell?"

"Could be." Hannibal shrugged. "Then again, it could be more of Dickenson's men. Either way, I think we're about to have company."

* * *

Stockwell knelt in a crouch and tugged at the safety line around his midsection. Knowing he was well secure, he leaned far out over the edge of the open hull and stared down at the ocean passing beneath him. He looked ahead to see land rapidly approaching, then keyed the intercom. "Parker, we're getting close. Do you have a visual?"

_"No joy, uh -"_ she cleared her throat, trying to cover up the hint of the pilot slang that had accidentally crept through. _"I mean that's a negative, General."_

"Keep looking, we're nearing their last known location."

_"Hold on, I think I have a visual on something. Due east, something's floating in the water over there."_

His voice remained calm, poised. "Let's get to it then."

Seconds later they were hovering above in a steady float maneuver and descending lower upon the water. Stockwell leaned further out of the chopper's side to inspect the floating debris. Realizing it was the remains of the speedboat, he pursed his in dissatisfaction, wondering if had been occupied. He didn't have to wait long for an answer.

_"Two o'clock General!"_ her voice broke through the headset. _"Over by those trees there by that sandbar. I don't see a good landing spot either. The tide is in and there's just too many trees for any sort of clearance."_

"Then get as close as you can," he commanded. "I'm going down for them."

She leaned back in her seat and craned her neck to look his way for a moment, then turned back to the ground below. _"General, you're not doing what I think you're doing, are you?"_

"Indeed, I am," he replied firmly. "You're going to drop me in then stay back and out of the way. Listen for my call when we're ready to be picked up. Able Thirteen will be accompanying me."

_"Understood."_

He kicked the safety ropes over the edge of the skid and he and his accompanying Able both gave one final pull at their lines. Stepping out onto the skids, Stockwell gripped his rope tightly, hooked a sliding loop around his leg, then eased themselves lower.

As the rope carefully slid in his hands, Stockwell turned his eyes downward, steadily creeping the rest of the way down. His feet finally touched the sand below, along with his accomplice right behind him. After quickly disconnecting from their safety latches, they hurried over.

"Nice of you to join us, General!" Hannibal piped up through a dripping sarcastic grin.

Stockwell rolled his eyes, not in any sort of mood for antics. Reaching inside his sock, he pulled a knife from the holster underneath it and began to pry the rope's metal edges apart. "I see you had quite a bit of trouble here, Colonel." Finally, he wedged enough of the cable's loose end to free Hannibal's wrists, and he watched the Colonel grab the cigar and pop it in his mouth. "Might I suggest we take care of business?"

Soon after all the men were free from their bounds, then they immediately rushed forward to retrieve their guns, foolishly left on the ground by Dickenson and his men.

Hannibal smirked. "Should've known better than to leave these just sitting here - why do they always make it so easy?" Feeling the cool metal in his hands brought a sense of relief, and he turned to Stockwell. "Speaking of just sitting here, we've got a big problem, General and it's heading this way."

As if on cue, a warning alarm wailed off in the distance and they all looked at each other nervously. Stockwell immediately went for the radio on his belt.

"We're ready for pick up. Make it quick."

Moments later the dangling safety lines were within reach and they all grabbed ahold, except B.A., who just stood there shaking his head.

"What are you doing?" Face yelled, holding the rope out to him.

B.A. shook his head and refused to take it. "I told you guys I ain't flyin'! I'd rather run for it!"

"What?" Murdock looked up in disbelief from the rope he had just clenched. He yelled at him, quite ironically, "Are you crazy?"

"Shut up, Murdock!"

"Come on, Sergeant!" Hannibal yelled, hoping his booming voice of authority would coerce him. "Take the rope and that's an order! _Now!"_

"No way!" B.A. backed off and threw his hands in the air. It was bad enough being inside one of those confounded machines, but the last thing he was about to do was hang under one. "No more flyin'!"

"Come on, B.A.!" Face insisted. "Don't be a baby."

_"No!"_

"We don't have time for this," Stockwell yelled, then reached behind his back. He pulled out the pistol that was tucked away in his belt and smacked it against the back of B.A.'s head with a swift motion.

Hannibal watched as B.A. hit the ground with a thud; knocked out cold, then he looked at Stockwell. "Interesting method, General. Where did you learn that one?"

Amused, Stockwell smiled as they wasted no time carefully looping the rescue line around B.A.'s chest, then under his arms with an unbreakable knot. Hannibal took hold of his line, and Stockwell keyed the radio.

_"Take us up, now!"_

The ground suddenly left their feet. While B.A. hung like a sack of potatoes, the rest began their ascent, scurrying up their respective ropes. Murdock glanced up at the underbelly of the chopper, which had quickly turned to make its way over the water and immediately recognized it.

_"STOCKWELL!"_ he yelled full force at the top of his lungs over the loud roar of gusting wind and whirling blades above them. _"You better tell me that's not her up there!"_

The answer, clear as the expression on Stockwell's face, was obvious. Murdock clenched his teeth in a furious bout of anger and resisted the sudden urge to grab the general by the throat.

He would have to let go of the rope for that.

Instead, he noticed a newfound strength with the rush of adrenaline that surged through his veins, and he began pulling himself up almost effortlessly. He reached the top first, then hoisted a leg up onto the skid and slid in the cargo area. He then immediately turned and held his hand out to Face, who had joined him soon after. Together, they helped the rest aboard, one by one.

Finally, they all grabbed a section of B.A.'s rope and began pulling in unison. Face commented through gasps of air, "I think we… really need to put… B.A. on a diet."

With B.A. now safely on board, Murdock gave Stockwell one final murderous glare, then scrambled for the cockpit.

"What is she doing here, General?" Hannibal demanded as he pointed at the pilot's seat.

Stockwell rolled his eyes, knowing there was only one explanation to give.

"It's a long story, Colonel."

* * *

_"What are you doing here, A.J.?"_

The very instant he pulled the headset over his ears, his disapproving tone flooded into hers as he quickly settled in the co-pilot's seat.

_"Hey, glad to see you too."_ She gave a quick glance his way. It wasn't quite the reunion greeting she'd expected.

_"You know what I mean."_ He quickly looped his arms into the safety harness and after a few moments of frustrated fumbling with his buckle, it finally clicked. _"I thought I told you not to get involved."_

_"And I thought you told me that you'd be fine!"_ With her hands full, she could only give a nod towards the fuselage behind them. _"Blame Stockwell, he's the one who took her. What was I supposed to do, just let him?"_

He looked her way, fire in his eyes. _"No, but you were supposed to -"_ his mouth dropped as he caught the glow of_ real_ fire in the windshield behind her as he realized the arching flame of a missile was headed straight for them.

She literally saw the fire's reflection in his widening eyes just before his sharp commanding voice overpowered her headset.

_"Ace, let go, let go! __Give her to me!__"_

She loosened her grip on the controls as he instinctively jerked the cyclic hard left, yanked up the collective as far as it would go and mashed the pedals at his feet. The chopper pulled into a fast ascent, banking hard away from the island at his command. He then motioned for her to hit the intercom switch, which she did with a quick hand.

_"Hang on back there, guys. Things are about to get a little hot!"_

An understatement, at best. Seconds later, the ground area where they stood moments before exploded into a gigantic ball of fire and a loud thunderous boom followed. The sudden gust of turbulence slapped them with a shearing force that sent them rolling forward into a dangerous pitch sideways.

"_Oh, sh -"_ She winced as she felt herself thrown into the restraints. _"We're going over!"_

_"Hang on, I've got her." _Gritting his teeth, he attempted to compensate, knowing he only had a few moments to get her under control before they flipped over completely. It took two hands on the cyclic just to keep her steady enough to hold her still through the powerful vibration.

Back in the cargo area, the rest of the occupants were thrown about, sans B.A., who had been tied up earlier with their safety ropes. Hannibal felt the floor incline at his feet and grabbed at the metal wall to keep him from falling. Two quick blurs flew past him heading towards the edge; one grey, one green.

_"Face!"_

With a quick motion, Hannibal dove head-first and caught Face's ankle just as he tumbled over the edge. But when the floor inclined even more as the fuselage rolled, he began sliding out right along with him. At the very last moment, he felt a pair of hands clasp around his legs and his own forward momentum ceased. Now able to catch hold of the chopper's sidewall, Hannibal held onto Face as tight as he could, then craned his neck to look behind to see who had caught _him._

"I've got you, Colonel." Stockwell reassured him as he firmly gripped his legs, and Hannibal returned an appreciative nod of thanks.

Dangling halfway out of the chopper's open belly, Face's heart raced as he got a front row view of Able Thirteen plummeting towards the churning ocean below. He watched the flailing man hit the water's surface at an awkward angle and he searched frantically for him to show signs of resurfacing.

He never did.

The chopper finally steadied as Face continued to gape in horror and he was immediately pulled up by Hannibal's gloved hands. After a quick nod of thanks to his rescuers, he held back the urge to vomit and sat down next to the unconscious B.A. instead.

Hannibal knelt beside him and winked. "Almost took a swim there, Lieutenant."

With the adrenaline subsiding and insanity rising, a loud howl flooded the headset. _"Yeeeeaah-hoooo! Now that was a fun ride on the wash, guys!"_

Now floating again in a calm hover, Murdock relaxed his grip on the cyclic and scanned the gauges, searching for anything abnormal. _"Rudder's intact, stabilizers are functioning."_ He reached above his head and activated the intercom again. _"You all can relax back there. She's holding together just fine. We did one hell of a job on this baby!"_

"Standby, Captain," Stockwell's voice called back through the headsets. "We're currently discussing what we're going to do about Corporal Dickenson."

_"Roger that."_ He flipped off the intercom, then exclaimed, _"She made it!"_ He proudly glanced to his left, his eyes filled with adrenaline and excitement. Noticing the lack of color in his co-pilot's face, insanity soon halted.

_"Hey, you okay there, Ace?"_

After a slow exhale, her color returned. _"Um, yeah. It's just, uh, been awhile since-"_ Feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline as the shock wore off, she blurted out, _"Did you just call that fun? I'm beginning to think B.A. was right. You are crazy, Tiger!"_

Captain Murdock confirmed he was indeed crazy with what he said next.

_"One day, I'm gonna barrel roll in one of these babies!"_

* * *

"Hmm," Hannibal curiously looked over the crates that were tied down in the far rear of the chopper, then made his way over to them. "What are these, General?"

"Ah, Colonel, those would be reinforcements."

Opening the case, Hannibal peered inside the compartment, then looked back at him with a gleam of jazz glowing in his eyes.

"I love reinforcements."

He lifted the rocket launcher from the crate and gave a quick inspection.

More hands reached inside the various crates. "So much for Dickenson thinking we weren't coming back," Face said, as he looped the straps of a machine gun over his shoulder. "Well, Hannibal? How are we going to get in there?"

As the lighter pulled away, a puff of smoke briefly appeared before disappearing into the open air outside. After a moment of contemplation, the jazz growing exponentially, he finally answered, "The front door, of course."

Face shook his head in disbelief, "Hannibal, you're not serious, are you? There's no way that's going to work."

"He'll never expect it." Looking over at Stockwell, he called out, "General, are you with us?"

Stockwell turned toward them, machine gun in hand, and Hannibal's jazz made its way into his eyes as well.

"Shall we take care of business, Gentlemen?"

Face groaned, knowing Stockwell was the last person he wanted covering his ass right now.

"Okay, so we're all in agreement." With the plan laid out, Hannibal keyed the intercom. "We're going back to settle our unfinished business, Murdock. We're going to need you on the ground on this one."

_"Aye, Colonel."_

A moment of thought later, he keyed it again. "A.J., we've gotta leave B.A. here with you. You sure you can handle this?"

He waited, anticipating the tone in her answer. It would be the deciding factor.

_"Roger that, Colonel. Just tell me what I need to do."_

Hannibal steadied himself on the edge of the choppers edge. Hoisting the rocket launcher over his shoulder, he braced himself, aimed, one final deep breath…

"This oughta keep 'em distracted for a minute."

He fired, then watched the flaming ball fly through the air in a perfect arch. The front gate exploded into pieces, throwing the men guarding it around like rag dolls.

_"The entrance is clear, get us on the ground!"_

Sinking lower, the skids hovered mere inches from the earth. Three pairs of boots hit the sand, and the vibration of his machine gun rattled in Face's hands right away, showering the area with bullets. The guards dove on the ground for cover, shielding their heads.

The cockpit door opened. Just before Murdock jumped to the ground below, he gave a final glance at her. "Be right back, okay?"

Hannibal's voice yelled over the sound of whirling blades, _"Let's go, Captain!"_ He then jerked his thumb towards the sky, adding, _"Get that bird up, Parker!"_

Murdock latched the cockpit door then turned and ran, just as Hannibal fired another rocket. As the chopper ascended on his command, a huge explosion rang out and they sprinted into heat of battle. With gunfire everywhere, they still managed to find a way to split up and dash for the entrance.

Hannibal crept among the wreckage of the front gate, which now lay in burning, broken pieces. He quietly moved along the building, gun at the ready. A quick eye caught a lone guard scouting the area ahead of him. Suddenly, a shot rang out from the left. The guard fell, clutching his chest.

Face rose from the crouch he'd fired from and gave Hannibal a nod as their eyes met. He glanced at the smoking barrel from his gun, pleased his accuracy hadn't gone to waste. With all the years he had trained himself to shoot off target he knew he couldn't afford to miss this time. There were hundreds of thousands of lives at stake now.

Hannibal kept moving, creeping closer to the silo. Another guard suddenly leaped out at him, his gun at the ready. Right away, another shot rattled his eardrums and the guard pitched forward with an open-mouthed gape.

A familiar voice echoed over his radio.

_"You're welcome, Colonel Smith."_

Hannibal reminded himself not to give Stockwell a hard time for a few days.

Two hundred more feet and he would be there. Hurrying his pace, he half expected to be taken down any second. More gunshots rang out around him as he finally reached his target.

After peering down the hole of the silo, which was a good twenty feet down, he pulled the explosive pack from the bag. He checked the devices over once more. Wires attached, caps in place, everything looked in check and he tossed them in.

The job only half finished at this point, he turned a heel and began a double back.

"The fox is in the hole! Get back to the chopper!"

Murdock had heard Hannibal's command over the radio and immediately braced himself at the front entrance. He had taken out at least three guards running about the area, while Hannibal took care of his end of the job, now it was his turn.

Keying his radio, he commanded, "They're on their way. Bring her down, right behind me."

There was a slow deceleration of the throttle, and the chopper gently touched down on the smoking grass. She could only watch helplessly from the cockpit window as Murdock stood directly in front of her, machine gun at the ready in his hands.

"Stockwell and I are right behind you, Hannibal." Face's voice echoed through the sounds of gunfire over his radio, "We're taking care of company over here."

Hannibal was the first to appear out of the carnage, followed by Stockwell and Face bringing up the rear.

Murdock fired a shower of bullets over the militant's heads as warning to back off. He watched as Hannibal raced for the chopper, bullets pounded the ground right behind him. With the ammunition threatening to clip his heels, he dove into the side of the chopper headfirst for cover, then immediately turned around and returned fire.

_"Hurry up, guys!"_

* * *

He'd considered himself lucky after the sudden attack, overthrowing his men. Having taken a bullet in the arm, he merely pretended to be dead. Falling to the ground, laying still, shallow breathing, all old tricks of the trade one learns as a mere child.

When the sound of footsteps ran past him, he picked his head up slightly. With his weapon still tightly clutched in his hands, he lifted it and took aim.

Then he pulled the trigger, hitting his target.


	14. Chapter 14 - Emancipation

_**Chapter 14 - Emancipation**_

* * *

Corporal Ronald Dickenson. He was the man who would go down in infamy as the one who sent a missile into Langley Base. Next, he would soon to be known as the man who was going to destroy the Capitol. After that, then the Pentagon and victory would soon be his.

The sight of his platoon lying motionless around him didn't matter. The thought that his life was probably about to end in the next few minutes didn't either. He was the last man standing. Well, not standing really, he'd been laying there playing dead. All he had on his psychotic mind was pulling off the last step. If he had to celebrate in hell afterward, he would do just that. Fueling his delusions of grandeur, he watched in amusement the man he'd just taken down who lay writhing there just a few meters away.

* * *

Hannibal sighed impatiently, waiting in the fuselage and the explosives detonator at the ready in his gloved hand. They should've been out by now, but here he stood in the cargo area - alone, minus the unconscious B.A. tied up nearby. All this extra time just standing around wasn't part of the plan.

After a quick glance around, he quickly poked his head out to see what was keeping the rest of them. Murdock was crouched on the edge of the right skid, also waiting. He was intent on protecting them, showering the heavily guarded area in warning with the last of his bullets.

Face's voice blared over the radio. _"We're coming, Colonel! Hold on, I don't see Stockw- wait! You better get back here, Hannibal! The General's down, I think he's been -" _his voice cut off and Hannibal's groan followed soon after.

This wasn't part of the plan either. Quickly choosing the only alternate available, he grabbed hold of the hull's edge to steady himself, and keyed his radio. "Hang on, Face, we're on our way. _Murdock!_" he yelled at the top of his lungs, then pointed to the cockpit. "Tag, you're in, Captain! Let's go get Face."

Heading the voice of his commander calling, Murdock threw his empty weapon aside and scrambled back into the cockpit. He gripped the cyclic and before he could even glance outside to get a bearing, it was already turning in his hands, one step ahead. He looked her way, who was focused intently on the area below.

_"Take'r over, Tiger,"_ her voice wavered as she relinquished the controls back to him. _"It's about to get hot, isn't it?"_

_"Better get the steaks ready, Ace,"_ A sly grin crept over his face as he teased, _"You feeling '_wild'_ yet?"_

She fired a surprised look of warning his way. He shot back with an expression that she could only describe as pure insanity as he reached for the intercom switch and flipped it.

_"Touchdown in sixty seconds, guys - get ready!"_

They pitched forward and barreled in. When the skids finally scraped against the sand, Hannibal jumped from the cargo area and rushed to meet an awaiting Face. Propped against his shoulder was a limping Stockwell, who was biting his lip with an expression of pure annoyance.

"How bad is it?" Hannibal asked as he watched the wet, red blotch of blood slowly creep across his lower pant leg.

"Just a scratch." Stockwell waved a dismissive hand, refusing Hannibal's offer to help carry him as he favored the injured leg. "Now, let's get out of here and eliminate this annoyance, shall we?"

Suddenly, Murdock's voice blared over the radio at his belt. _"Behind you, Colonel!" _

Hannibal whirled around to a well-alive Dickenson, remote launcher in one hand, gun pointed directly at him in the other.

"Sh-" Murdock didn't finish the vulgarity as he threw open the cockpit door with one hand, while digging the pistol from his inner jacket pocket with the other. Taking a rushed aim, he fired three shots and they all whizzed by Dickenson's ear by a mere inch.

Dickenson jumped in surprise, then pointed his gun at Murdock and made a return attempt - who ducked behind the cockpit door just in time. The bullets ricocheted off the steel metal hull in various directions and through the corner of his eye, he saw A.J. quickly duck at the loud clang and wince. He only had a moment of panic to spare for her concern, thankfully long enough to tell she hadn't been hurt, before his attention was back to Dickenson. Worry turned to pure rage as Murdock raised his gun, aimed right between his enemy's eyes and pulled the trigger without even a second thought.

_*click*_

_You know, if Stockwell ain't dying yet, I just might kill him myself..._

When Murdock looked up from reloading, he realized his distraction had worked anyway, and it had become their enemy's undoing.

They all watched as Dickenson's heart literally burst open in his chest. While the blood seeped from beneath his fatigues, Dickenson stared at the smoking barrel of a pistol still pointed at him. Behind it, General Stockwell, his eyes full of smug confidence hidden behind his sunglasses.

"See you in hell, Corporal," Stockwell spat.

Dickenson clutched his throbbing chest and fell to the earth. But just before he felt the last of his soul slip into oblivion, he used it to squeeze the remote still clutched in his hands. With one last gasp, he exhaled. Then his eyes slowly iced over.

For good.

* * *

By now the familiar ring of the warning alarm had become more of a nuisance to Hannibal. With time running out, he insisted Stockwell take his and Face's arms to move faster, and the three began their trek back to the awaiting chopper.

"Come on, General," Hannibal rushed him. "We've only got about a minute to get out of here and detonate those explosives before that missile heads for D.C."

Each step felt like an eternity. But as soon as they were all aboard safely, Hannibal keyed his radio.

_"Go, Murdock!"_

At his command, the chopper lifted with ease and charged for the open water. Hannibal counted the seconds in his mind, then knew he couldn't wait any longer. He only hoped they were well enough out of range.

With a squeeze, he pressed the detonator and it beeped in response. Time seemed to freeze and all eyes were on the island below.

One small explosion was seen off in the distance, then a chain reaction followed. A few seconds after, a deafening rumble overtook them as the base exploded into a huge rising mushroom cloud of fire, fueled by the plethora of missiles they'd just destroyed. Billowing black smoke rose to the air soon after and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

They were safe, along with their beloved country.

After the rumble ceased, Hannibal crouched before the injured Stockwell. After ripping his pant leg open, he found a gaping bullet hole in his calf. "Looks like you got the short end of the stick this time, General," he told him, an playful half-smile appearing at his lips.

Bemused, Stockwell glared in response. "Shall we return home, Colonel? I have more than a few people in Langley to get a hold of. Now, if you would be so kind."

After a shared nod in agreement, Hannibal sat back against the cold steel wall of the cargo area and keyed the radio. _"Time to head back, guys. We've got a couple of wounded here that need medical attention."_

The two in the cockpit exchanged glances as the command buzzed through the pair of headsets. He smiled, then gestured to the comm for her to answer.

_"Aye, Colonel. We are headed home,"_ she replied, still watching the billowing smoke in the distance. Then she began to loosen her grip on her cyclic. _"Go ahead and take her, Tiger. I've seen enough action to last a looong while."_

With the danger now behind them, Murdock broke into a yawn. Thirty-six hours of almost sleepless activity had drained him. With a desire of nothing more than to close his eyes for awhile, he laid his head back against the headrest and did just that - just before relinquishing control completely.

_"That is a negative, Ace. She's all yours now, take us home."_

* * *

When they arrived back at the Langley compound, the reception that followed was not quite one that would depict national heroes who had just saved their nation's capital from impending destruction. There was excitement though as an awaiting group rushed forward to meet with them the instant the helicopter's skids gently settled onto the grass.

It was a plethora of activity. Vitals were taken, unconscious bodies put into wheelchairs, reports being scrawled; not to mention the various weapons removed and inventoried by the never-ending supply of Ables that seemed to come and go.

Hearing the cacophony of voices finally drift away as the commotion headed back to the house, she remained motionless in the cockpit, her white-knuckled hand still gripping the cyclic long after the blades ceased turning. Finally prying her fingers off the grip, she leaned her head against the headrest and attempted to stow away the adrenaline that had built up over the last few hours.

She looked to her right and found Murdock studying her intently. As she peered into his eyes, she noticed the insanity that once shone brightly had faded and couldn't tell what was going through his mind, other than he could still use some much-needed rest.

And a shower.

"So, Tiger," She reached out to touch his dirt streaked cheek, then traced the outline of a nasty bruise on his lip. "Still want that job?"

He considered her offer briefly, then replied with a smile, "I guess now would be a good time to tell you that I don't have a pilot's license, huh?"

* * *

B.A.'s eyes snapped open at the putrid smell under his nose and he quickly slapped it away. Reaching up to his head, he felt the nasty knot, with a splitting headache right behind it. "Where am I? What happened?" he demanded sternly. A quick glance around the room and he knew one thing already - he was back home in Langley.

"Now, B.A., calm down," Hannibal gently coaxed him, then offered an ice pack. "Don't you remember?

While pressing the frozen pack against his head, B.A. scrunched his face in thought, recollecting the scattered imagery in his pounding head. "We were caught."

Face picked up where B.A. trailed off, "And you decided to make a run for it, remember?"

"Yeah, and then the blast knocked you unconscious," Hannibal added.

"No, I don't remember that. But I do remember Stockwell was there and -" B.A. suddenly narrowed his eyes and shot a look across the room at Stockwell, who occupied the other couch across from him. Realizing he had flown once again after his refusal, B.A. furiously pointed a finger at Stockwell and yelled, "You're gonna pay for this, man!"

"I already have, Sergeant," Stockwell grumbled and the stinging sensation of antiseptic fizzled in his leg wound. "Take it easy, _Doctor!_" he snapped.

B.A. knew it really shouldn't have been amusing, but he snickered nonetheless

"Well, we pulled this one off without a hitch." Hannibal glanced over at Stockwell's leg and his wound that was now being neatly stitched. "Almost."

"Agreed." Stockwell muttered, then propped himself up and scolded, "Except Langley Air Base is now in the midst of a very large clean-up operation. But Dickenson has finally been terminated after twenty years on the run and the missile site completely destroyed. Gentlemen, I believe that's three more mission credits under your belts in just two weeks. You're getting quite efficient under my command, I must say."

"Which means we get an extra-long vacation this time, right?" Face piped up.

"Oh, I don't know. You gentlemen have proven you're good at rebuilding helicopters, I hear there's quite a few over at Langley's Base that are going to need some attention."

Face's face dropped in horror at the thought. "You're joking right?"

With his wound now dressed, Stockwell motioned to the two Ables standing by to join him and shakily rose to his feet with their help. "Good evening, gentlemen," he told them, then limped for the exit, an Able on each side propping him up.

The door swung inward, revealing two individuals in the doorway; their lips joined in a slow, passionate kiss. They both had no idea that the wandering eyes of the house occupants were now all gaping at them in surprise, sans Face, who knowingly smiled.

The loud sound of Stockwell clearing his through was enough to finally interrupt them and she quickly pulled away, her cheeks flushed, sputtering, "Oh, um- hello, General."

"Lieutenant... Captain." Stockwell dismissed the frivolity with a roll of his eyes, then gave them both a nod of appreciation. "Lieutenant, my offer on your full military reinstatement still stands."

"Sir?"

"Are you going to make me repeat myself yet _again_, Parker?" Stockwell grumbled, trying to balance himself.

"No, sir." She exchanged a knowing glance with Murdock, then she shook her head. "I already have a job, General - which I'm more than happy to get back to first thing tomorrow."

"Well, consider it an open offer if you ever change your mind."

She hesitated, then saluted him. "I'll keep that in mind, sir."

Murdock saluted him too, not only out of a mandatory respect, but thanks as well.

_Yeah, thanks, General. No, not just for taking the trouble to come out and rescue us, but for not getting us all killed in the process you sleazy son of a-_

"Nice work, Captain, as always." Stockwell told him, then glanced briefly back to A.J., then added with a smirk, "Enjoy your downtime." As he began to limp his way by, he stopped briefly. "Until next time."

They watched Stockwell's limo pull away and Murdock immediately sighed with relief when it finally drove out of sight. Thankful another mission was over, he and his teammates; his brothers, were still alive and safe. Feeling like he'd finally left his crazy self behind, he was about to pick up where they left off before they were interrupted. Instead, she pulled him through the familiar front doors.

"Ah, there's the veritable knight in shining armor," Face teased. With Stockwell and his entourage now out of sight, a sense of relaxation washed over them all.

"Speaking of armor," Murdock began, breathing a sigh of relief as he recalled their close call earlier. "It was a good thing we went with that steel plating, guys! Boy, if we would've stuck with aluminum, she would've melted a hole in the side from all that heat, then we would've lost all her lift and -"

_"Murdock!"_

It wasn't just B.A. who yelled at him this time, but A.J. had also joined him in their unified protest.

"Oops," he grinned apologetically. Perhaps he hadn't left all his old self behind after all.

Hannibal had been quietly watching from the corner of the room; a rag doused in antiseptic against his split lip and ice on his ribs. His eyes softened when he noticed A.J.'s concern for his injuries and gave a reassuring smile. "It's okay, kid."

She nodded. "Well guys, I think it's about time I flew out of here. Time to head home."

"Aw, already?" Murdock grinned mischievously at B.A. "Hey, big guy, I think there's a few dings to be buffed out. Whadda ya say?"

"Don't even try crazy man," B.A. scowled in warning. "You tricked me once, I ain't falling for it again!"

"That's okay, B.A.," A.J. broke in, unwilling to endure yet another round of their banter. "She is back to one-hundred percent, thanks to you!" She quickly made her way over to him for one last appreciative hug. "Thanks to all of you. It's been... unforgettable." She quickly made her rounds to say goodbye to each of them, eager to get back home.

"I'm sure we'll see you soon," Face told her as they hugged. He probably held on a little longer than normal, but he didn't care, then whispered in her ear, "Thanks for saving my neck, kid."

Remembering the same words she'd read in Murdock's book, she felt an inward smile grow. "Hey, stop by the airfield anytime you want, as promised. Bring a date and I'll take you guys up for a freebie."

Face immediately became thoughtful. "Hm, romantic chopper ride over the Capitol... a little champagne, a little something else afterwards - how about once a week?"

"A _week?_" A.J. stared at him in disbelief. She was about to tell him how much it was going to cost the gulf in petrol, but smiled instead. "Sure, Face. Just call to make sure I'm free first, okay?"

"Deal."

_Still got it, Faceman._

Hannibal stood up and offered his hand in kind, which she graciously accepted. "Take care of yourself, kid... and that bird."

As they shook hands, Murdock dropped his arm on her shoulder. "She won't have to, Colonel. I'll see to that."

"Good luck, Captain." Hannibal gave an approving nod and as the door closed behind them, he added with a chuckle, "If she's anything like her father, he's going to need it."

B.A. looked over at him curiously. "Hey, did you ever tell A.J. that you knew her dad?"

When Hannibal shook his head, B.A. shot him a look of disbelief. "What?"

"Hannibal!" Face exclaimed in surprise. "You mean she still doesn't _know?_"

"What? It never came up, guys."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the reviews!


	15. Epilogue - Nobody's Fool

_**Epilogue - Nobody's Fool**_

* * *

The nighttime darkness encompassed them, yet the lustrous stars overhead went unnoticed. Normally, her eyes would be turned upwards on a clear night like this, but instead they were fixed to the ground. It was a slow, relaxed pace; a symphony of crickets and other insects tweeting about.

"So," her voice was quiet; subdued. "I'd say her first test flight was a success."

"I never doubted her for a second." His arm, still resting on her shoulders, pulled her closer. "I told you she was a tough bird."

"You were right all along. I just hope I never have to see her all torn up like that again." Teasingly, she added, "Guess I'll have to keep an eye on you, Tiger."

When he didn't respond, her curious glance shot his way and saw his brow wrinkled in a troubled frown. "I was kidding, you know. What's wrong?"

"Mm, I'm just trying to figure something out here."

"Oh no, not this again." She pursed her lips at his perturbed tone. "I thought I already explained things, Stockwell was going to-"

"No, not that you came after us," he interrupted. "Matter of fact, I'm just going to have to accept _that_," he emphasized, referring to the earlier adventure, "and blame it on your _wild_ genetics, Ace Junior."

She snickered. "Okay, so what is it then?"

"Mmm, I'm just trying to figure out how they could let you walk away so easily with talent like that."

"They - you mean the Force?" She reached into her pockets and hesitated. "You really want to know?" When she turned back to him, he'd stopped in his tracks and the look on his face indicated he indeed wanted an answer - and that he was waiting.

"It was... mental," she began, embarrassed as she recalled the memory. "The day I found out my Dad died, I told my CO that I just couldn't fly anymore. My Ace died with him."

"So you pretended to be...?" He trailed off in surprise.

"I don't know, I was so grief stricken and alone." Her voice shook as she admitted, "Honestly up until today, I really thought it had died. Thanks for showing me it's still there."

He stared at her in astonishment, then began walking in stride once again.

"Besides, you're the real Ace," she told him confidently. "The way you pulled us outta that roll so easily..." she trailed off and breathed a sigh of relief. "You know, you can't toss the clients around with crazy moves like the ones you pull. They tend to get mad at ya."

"Do they?" He chuckled, then knowingly smiled. "And how would you know that?"

She sheepishly shrugged in reply, then came to a stop as they stood before the chopper once again.

"Her we are." Murdock cleared his throat then sported a British accent as he opened the cockpit door. "Your chariot awaits, _madam._"

_"Hold up there, guys!"_

They turned around, surprised to hear another voice. "Was that Hannibal?" she asked.

"Sounded like it." He squinted in the darkness and saw a figure running to catch up with them. As soon as he saw it was indeed him, he was concerned that he'd rushed all the way out here. "What's wrong, Colonel?" he yelled.

"Nothing," Hannibal called out as he approached, trying to catch his breath. "Nothing's wrong. It's just... before you leave, I wanted to... to tell A.J. something."

Wondering what was so important that he had chased them down, she looked at him with morbid curiosity. Adding to the anticipation, he reached into his inner pocket for a cigar. Puffing away as he lit it, he finally drew a long inhale.

"I just wanted to say that your old man would be proud of you, Lieutenant, for what you pulled off today_._" The smoke blew from his lips as he finished the sentence. "Real proud."

She frowned in confusion. That was it? After staring into his eyes for a moment, she finally sensed his recognition. "You knew him, didn't you?" When he nodded, she ventured further. "From Korea?"

Hannibal pondered a moment, his thoughts back in time, then answered, "Your dad was in command of the air support that would pull us out when things got hot." He seemed to be reliving each detail as he continued. "Well, one night, it got_ real_ hot and we were backed into a corner with no way out. The rescue squadron that was supposed to intercept with us bailed early... only one stayed behind. Turns out he had been ordered to cut and run with the others, but he didn't. He stayed and protected us; even set down right in the middle of the heavy action to shield us from the fire."

She hung onto every word as his story slowly sank in; not just into her memory, but deep into her soul as well.

"His heroism saved a lot of us that day, including me_._" Hannibal continued, his eyes still fixed on her. "I was hit that night and evac-ed out, so I never got the chance to see him again to thank him. But I've carried that appreciation of his bravery with me to this very day." Exhaling slowly, the wisp of blue smoke lingered in the air as he removed a black glove and held out his bare hand.

"Thank _you_, Lieutenant."

She looked at hand, her eyes brimming not only with tears, but confidence. "No," she told him, ignoring his hand and fiercely hugging him instead. "Thank _you_, Hannibal... for everything you do." She pulled away, then entered the cockpit, without another word, leaving Hannibal and Murdock standing before one another.

"Colonel."

"Captain. Make sure she gets home safe."

"I will, don't you worry none about that."

The familiar hug between them had been perfected over the years as the sound of the familiar engine started.

"See you soon, then. I'm sure Stockwell will have another mission before we know it." Hannibal backed away and began the trek back to the house, as Murdock joined her in the cockpit.

"Ready?" He glanced her way as he latched his safety harness, noticing she was wiping the last of a few tears away.

"Yeah." Composing herself quickly, she nodded. "All this time, I had no idea. Do you think everything that's happened here... do you think it's all just coincidence?"

His confident jaw squared as he told her, "Hannibal doesn't believe in coincidence."

She nodded as she pulled the headset on, then looked his way. "Do you?"

All he could do was smile as he pulled his own headset on. The blades overhead began to spin and with the start-up sequence now complete, her playful glare shot his way.

_"So, Tiger."_ Their eyes met. _"What's wrong with my genetics, huh? Shooting down the idea of kids already?"_

A wide-eyed look of panic crossed his face, as her quick pull of the collective shot them in an ascent towards the starlit heavens above.

Back down on the earth below, Hannibal watched the chopper pull a speedy flyover over the house, then turn east, fading away until it was just another blinking light against the stars.

As he walked back into the house, a smile appeared, knowing they'd just taken off safe and sound...

...to begin their own adventure.

_To a person in love, the value of the individual is intuitively known. Love needs no logic for its mission. ~Charles Lindbergh_

**_*** FINI ***_**


End file.
